Reunited
by SpiritBox
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry and Ginny were ready to start their happily ever after. Yet with the return of Tom Riddle, will Ginny still be able to find her happily ever after with Harry? FINAL chapter is up!
1. Prologue: The Phoenix

Disclaimer: If I owned Tom Riddle…

…I would be a happy, happy person. But alas, I don't. ( All characters and spells/curses/everything besides this plot are owned by the talented J.K Rowling.

(A/N: **Harry Potter Lexicon i**s my one-stop reference source for spells, characters, and other random informational tidbits. This site is so thorough it's almost scary!)

Please take a couple of minutes to review! I honestly don't have a definite idea where I'm going with this, and feedback would be mucho appreciated:)

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Reunited (prologue)

The night was pitch black, and only the occasional flashes of lightning colored the deep night. Inside the Malfoy Manor, a lone figure lounged in an armchair, watching the glowing embers of the dying fire in the fireplace. With a Daily Prophet laid across his lap, the figure frowned at the headline boasting "WEDDING OF THE CENTURY," which took up most of the front page. His frown deepened as he read the article, outlining in excruciating details the marriage of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

It came no surprise to him that the media would be all over the Weasley/Potter union, as a dog would salivate over a piece of steak. Lauded as the hope of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived's popularity have only increased after defeating Voldemort five months ago. After the war, both Harry and Ginny have then devoted themselves to repair the ravages and destructions of the war. The masses loved and adored the Boy-Who-Lived and his feisty and loyal girlfriend, and they hope that this "wedding of the century" would ensure a happy and bright future for everyone.

Infuriated by the picture of the smiling couple, he threw down the paper and muttered an incendio spell, and watched in twisted satisfaction as the paper burst into flames. He tried to calm himself, telling himself that all this media attention on the wedding was good, as it took attention away from him and his own plans. Nonetheless, he couldn't still the burning rage that was bubbling inside of him.

A soft knock interrupted his musings, and the mahogany door opened slightly as Lucius Malfoy quietly slipped into the library. "Pardon me for the intrusion, but everything has been executed according to your orders, my lord." The tall and regal blond-haired man reported as he knelt before the seated figure.

"Well done, Lucius. Gather everyone and prepare to leave by 7am. We must be quick, swift and efficient in our plan. See that you do not fail me." Lucius couldn't help but look up slightly at the chilling and ominous last sentence. The waning light of the fire did nothing to soften the intensity of his lord's eyes, which were glowing red in a dangerous way. Lucius could only nod in agreement, and scampered quickly out the room. When the door shut behind him, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Though his new lord was more handsome than his _old _lord was, he had the same frightening red eyes, and a quiet intensity that set Lucius' nerves at end. Gathering his wits once again, Lucius strode purposefully down the hall to finalize preparations for tomorrow's attack.

Back in the library, Tom Riddle laughed quietly at the fear that emanated from his follower. This is exactly what he desired – dominating weaker beings and bending them to his biddings. Absolute, total, complete control. Soon, very soon, the first step in his plans would commence. Riddle was almost beside himself with anticipation. He was tired of hiding in the shadows. It was now time for him to make his grand entrance, and make his powers known. His older self was a narrow-minded and weak fool, and he deserved to die at the hand of that Potter brat. If he couldn't kill him when he was a baby, he reasoned, what made him think he would be any match for him 18 years later? But he will not make the same mistake of underestimating his enemy. He was like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of his former self – only to be stronger and better than before. He would make sure that the world would know the immense power of Tom Riddle. Starting with The-Boy-Who-Lived. It's only appropriate Potter, since you have something of mine, he thought to himself.

Yes, he smiled cruelly as he closed his eyes. They wanted the wedding of the century, and that was _exactly _what they would be getting.


	2. Chapter 1: Wedding Day

Disclaimer: I own the Harry Potter books and a Viktor Krum Valentine's Day card. That's about it.

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Chapter 1: Wedding of the Century

"BREAKFAST! Everyone get down here. IT'S A BIG DAY AND WE CAN'T BE LATE!" The voice of Molly Weasley rang throughout the Burrow as she continued to busy herself around the kitchen. Plates of piping hot bacon and sausages were stacked high, along with a mountain of pancakes and toast. Enough food to fit a small army, Molly mused to herself as she set out jugs of orange juice and milk. Though, she supposed the Weasley clan rather resembled a small army, they at least had the _numbers_, if nothing else.

And right on cue, her own rag tag army groggily stumbled into the kitchen. Mumbling good mornings and stifling yawns, everyone assembled and plopped down to consume in the vast amount of food in front of them.

Though she was no stranger to large crowds, even Molly was surprised at how…_immense_ her family has grown. She surveyed her brood, doing a mental headcount: Fred was there with his wife Angelina. George and his girlfriend, Selene, had flew in from France the night before. Bill and Fleur brought over their twin girls, who were both happily throwing bits of bacon around the room – to Fleur's great chagrin. Even Charlie has flown back from Romania with Julia to attend his baby sister's wedding. Percy and Penny were to join them later that morning, opting to have breakfast in their own apartment to avoid the chaos and rowdiness that was sure to happen whenever the Weasley clan congregated. Off in the corner were Ron, Hermione, and Harry, chatting quietly. Ron, who had one arm casually thrown over Hermione, was maintaining a conversation while stuffing his face with food. Hermione, on the other hand, ate her eggs primly as she listened to the conversation about the new store at Hogsmeade. Molly couldn't help but smile proudly at her large family as they went about their breakfasts. Now that her baby girl is set to marry Harry, all of her children have settled down, some even starting families of their own. She couldn't believe how quickly time has flown, nor could she believe how kind the fates have been to them. She only hoped that this peaceful life would continue on for the rest of their days.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Molly made a plate to bring up to Ginny, and tried to salvage some food for Arthur, who had left early that morning to run some last minute errands for the wedding.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Upstairs on the third floor, Ginny hummed softly to herself as she dashed around the room to get ready for her big day. She just changed out of her pajamas when she heard a knock on her door. "Come in." She said, and turned to see Mrs Weasley walk in with her breakfast. "Morning mum, you really didn't have to bring up my food, you know. It's not as if you don't have enough to do as it is." Ginny smiled kindly at her mom, even as she grabbed a slice of toast from the tray and plopped back down on the bed.

"I know darling, but we can't have you running into Harry today now. It's unlucky for the bride to see the groom on the day of the wedding!" Mrs Weasley chided softly. Her eyes softened and grew damp as she looked down on her youngest child. "My baby girl is all grown up. Getting married and moving out!" She whispered softly. Ginny stood up and hugged her mom, "Oh mum, Harry and I will only be a couple of minutes away, and you know we'll be back to visit often. Neither of us can cook even if our lives depended on it!" Ginny reassured her as she gave her mom a hug. "Oh, you always know what to say to make me feel better, don't you?" Mrs Weasley retorted, as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Well, I'll let you eat your breakfast and get ready, got lots to do today." Ginny flashed a brilliant smile as she watched her mom hurry out the door.

The smile faded from her face as soon as the door was closed. Ginny threw the half-eaten toast back on the plate, losing her appetite now that the reality of her wedding hit her full force.

Married, I'm getting _married _today.

When Ginny was younger, she used to daydream about her wedding day – where it would be, what it would look like, how radiant she would look in her dress. After being introduced to Harry Potter, the once faceless groom had shaped and morphed into the visage of The-Boy-Who-Lived. As she grew older, the daydreams grew more intricate and complex, the dresses and foods and locations changing occasionally to suit Ginny's ever changing interests. But the identity of her handsome groom never changed, his emerald eyes and tentative smile was burned into the back of her mind. Not until her first year at Hogwarts did the face in her daydreams shift to that of another.

At Hogwarts, the face that haunts her sleep also had dark hair and piercing green eyes, but it was now the face of Tom Riddle. Her dashing, engimatic Tom never left her thoughts during that tumultous first year, and even after his evil plan was unveiled, his dark and handsome face never truly left her mind.

After Ginny was rescued from the Basilik, Ginny hardened her heart against her childhood whims. No longer in love with Harry (how could she, when he was the one to take Tom away from her?) but too angry at Tom for his bitter betrayal ( _No, he said he would never hurt me, _a voice inside her head protested,) Ginny no longer fantasized about her wedding day. First year proved to be a brutal awakening for her, and suddenly she felt too old – too worldly - to waste time on fairytale endings and other such insubstantial things.

Nonetheless, here she was, fresh out of Hogwarts and about to marry Harry. She supposed she was happy, having gone through a myriad of emotions for him since the Chamber of Secrets – puppy love, hate, anger, gratitude and companionship all blended together and gradually turned to love.

Trying to quench a growing sense of uneasiness, she told herself that she was being silly. _I love Harry, and marrying him would make me happy_, she repeated over and over to herself. _You love him, but you love Tom **more**, _another part of her hissed dangerously. Deep within her heart of hearts, she knew that was true. While her love for Harry was comfortable and safe, like the warm afterglow of a dying fire, her love for Tom was dangerous and unpredictable, more akin to an uncontrolled flame that threatened to consume her heart, body, and soul.

Snorting to herself, she remembered an old saying that her mom used to say: love can either warm your heart or burn your house down.

Ginny walked to her closet and took out her wedding gown. She stared at her dress and thought of all that it implies – and she was suddenly bombarded by visions. She braced herself against images of Harry's smile, of her beaming parents, of her and Harry's new flat, and of a new life utterly and totally devoid of Tom.

She closed her eyes and tried to stop the sharp pain in her heart at the last thought. She smiled ruefully as she stepped into the strapless white gown, zipping it up the slowly. _If love is supposed to passionate and all consuming, that I wish to burn, _she decided.

And burn, she did.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The sun shone down on heavily on the wedding guests in the gardens, and the stifling July heat was somewhat soothed by the occasional summer breeze. The garden behind the burrow was transformed wonderfully for the summer wedding, a trail of rose petals separated by several rows of unadorned white chairs led up to a small gazebo, which was especially flown in for the ceremony. Both Harry and Ginny had wanted a small and private ceremony among their closest friends and family. As a result, only the Weasley clan and some Gryiffindors were present, along with Professor MacGonagall and a select Ravenclaws with whom the couple is close to.

The conversations and laughter gradually died down as the minister stood up and took his place at the gazebo. All the guests returned to their seats, and all eyes turned to the gazebo as Harry calmly strode to his place in the front. When the string quartet began playing Pachebel's Canon, Harry turned to his left and shared a smile with Ron, his best man and soon to be brother-in-law. His attention turned to the back of the garden when the guests looked to the back of the garden, indicating the arrival of the matron of honor and the bride. His emerald eyes shone with anticipation as he tried to caught a glimpse of Ginny, and he was only vaguely aware when the canon faded into the wedding march. _This is it, Harry, _he thought to himself, _the beginning of happily ever after._

Upon hearing the music change, which was their cue to start the procession, Ginny watched as Hermione, her Matron of Honor walk down the aisle, her graceful and sure steps perfectly in time with the music. Ginny was trying to take in all the details of the wedding and almost missed her own cue. Thankfully, Arthur Weasely was paying attention, and squeezed his daughter's hand to get her attention. Beaming down proudly upon his only daughter, the pair began the procession down the aisle to a mesmerized Harry.

Upon the arrival of the bride, the guests stood up to show their respect for the bride's procession. Ginny took this time to look at all the faces of the guests, nodding and smiling occasionally to greet a friend or a brother. Almost upon the gazebo, Ginny turned her eyes to her soon-to-be-husband, her face softening when she saw the love and adoration that was displayed in his emerald eyes. She unconsciously thought of another pair of mesmerizing green eyes, before she sharply hushed the traitorous thought. Arthur and Ginny stood in front of Harry, and Arthur kissed Ginny's cheek before handing her arm to his almost son-in-law and taking a seat next to Molly.

The music has stopped, and the minister has started talking, welcoming everyone to this momentous occasion and proclaiming the virtues of young love and… Ginny tried her hardest to pay attention to his speech, but she was distracted when she saw moving shadows out of the corners of her eyes. She thought it was her imagination at first, but then she realized that Harry also seemed distracted, as he kept looking to the side as well. Feeling a bit nervous now, Ginny tried not to panic as the shadows became to move quicker. She also heard muffled whisperings, bits and pieces of words and phrases that somehow made their way to her ears. She shook her head and once again tried to pay attention to the minister, who seemed oblivious to the disturbance.

The minister's discourse was interrupted by a loud BOOM, which was followed by a cloud of billowing black smoke. Before anyone could react, a cry of "Incarcerous!" resonated throughout the garden. Ginny couldn't help but shudder at the sheer impact, as she had _felt_ the words rather than actually _hearing_ them. When the smoke cleared, Ginny watched in horror as the spell bound everyone's arms and legs with magical rope. All of the guests were tied to their chairs, and she watched dumbly as the magical ropes wove its way around Harry and the minister, forcing them to fall to the ground.

Trying to slow down her hammering heart, Ginny barely had time to wonder why she was the only one not affected by the spell when she heard the distinct "_pop_" of someone apparating. The "_pop_"s continued, and Ginny's eyes widened as she watched Death Eaters appear in the garden one by one. There were at least 20 of them, and Ginny knew that she could only take about 5 or 6 of them without her wand. Her senses went on overdrive as she tried to take in what was happening. Noticing that someone was trying to sneak up behind her, she spun around to confront the culprit. She was greeted by the face that has haunted her thoughts for the past 7 years, and she felt herself go numb from shock. She vaguely remember dropping her bouquet, as the devil with the face of an angel purred his greeting.

"Long time no see, Ginevra."

…TBC…..

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A/N: Review is **love**! Please let me know what you think and what direction you want this fic to go. Next chapter will be Tom's POV about crashing the wedding...

Spell from Harry Potter Lexicon at www . hp-lexicon . org / index-2.html (Without all the spaces, of course!)


	3. Chapter 2: his Ginevra, his Ginny

**A/N: **Whew, chapter 2! Sorry this took longer than I had originally planned, but I was pretty bogged down by real life.  
Thanks to **jjp91, Sapphire Crystal Aurora Angel, Jay FicLover, Blackheartz, SailorHecate, The Hungarian Horntail, **and** thecutiedisease** for reviewing! I'm surprised people actually enjoy my crazy story!

And to answer your question **jjp91 **– Riddle looks the same as he did in the CoS (i.e. young and _hawt_.) I treat Voldemort and Tom Riddle as different entities in this story. Voldemort is already dead, and I'll get into how Tom got out of the diary in later chapters. Hope that clears it up!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters. I just like to play with them and pick on Harry Potter. Poor guy never gets a break.

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_**From last chapter…**_

_Trying to slow down her hammering heart, Ginny barely had time to wonder why she was the only one not affected by the spell when she heard the distinct "pop" of someone apparating. The "pop"s continued, and Ginny's eyes widened as she watched Death Eaters appear in the garden one by one. There were at least 20 of them, and Ginny knew that she could only take about five or six of them without her wand. Her senses went on overdrive as she tried to take in what was happening. Noticing that someone was trying to sneak up behind her, she spun around to confront the culprit. She was greeted by the face that has haunted her thoughts for the past 7 years, and she felt herself go numb from shock. She vaguely remembers dropping her bouquet, as the devil with the face of an angel purred his greeting._

"_Long time no see, Ginevra."_

Chapter 2: His Ginevra and his Ginny

Tom's handsome face broke into a wicked smile as he stood before the bride. Devouring the fiery beauty before him with his eyes, he paid no attention to the other wedding guests as he strode confidently up towards his Ginevra. And she _was_ his – no matter how much the silly girl tried to deny it. She has belonged to him since she was but a small girl of eleven – and nothing, not even death, betrayal, or the passage of time can change that fact. Especially not bloody Potter. Tom scowled as he shook himself out of his musings and fix his attention back on the stunned Ginevra. After all, he didn't crash this wedding simply for the wedding cake or the reception food.

"I'm hurt, Ginevra. Here I thought that you would be happy to see me too. Not even a hello, a hug, or a _kiss?" _Tom leered dangerously, almost hissing the last word. He was pleased to see the effect of his words though, as Ginny shivered involuntarily. she remained silent, speaking volumes instead with her heated gaze.

Their staring contest was broken by Harry's voice. "Riddle you stay AWAY from Ginny! She has nothing to do with this, and don't you hurt her to get to me!" Tom managed to tear his eyes away from Ginny to look at Harry, who was thrashing about on the floor as he struggled against the ropes. "Oh Mr. Potter, when will you realize that not _everything _in this world is about you?" Tom drawled slowly as he moved to stand over Harry. "You see, my dear boy, I've come today to speak with Ginevra, and it really has nothing to do with you." Tom watched in amusement as awareness flickered in Harry's eyes. He began to thrash even more violently, and cursing Tom with a renewed vengeance.

Growing impatient with the unruly boy, Tom kicked Harry in the stomach before placing a silencio spell on him. He took out his wand and points it at the struggling hero. "It's time you learn your place Potter. You're not dealing with Voldemort anymore. And it's time to play by _my _rules. Cruc-.." "Wait STOP!" Tom lowered his wand at the sound of Ginny's voice.

"Leave him alone Tom. You said you came to see me, so just tell me what you want." Ginny told him evenly. She suddenly looked very, very tired. With the grace and fluidity of a snake, Tom glided over to Ginny and trapped her in his embrace. He brushed his lips along her neck before kissing his way up to whisper in her ear, "You, my lovely Ginevra, I want you." Tom felt Ginny stiffen in his arms and he automatically tightened his embrace, inhaling deeply and taking in her scent. Cinnamon and peaches. His Ginevra always smells like cinnamon and peaches.

"And if I don't want you, Tom? Then what?" Ginny inquired quietly. At those words, Tom pushed her away and glared at her. Ginny held her ground and glanced back defiantly. Tom couldn't help but smirk at the volatile beauty in front of him. His Ginevra was no coward, he thought proudly. "Then my sweet girl, I will kill everyone here, one by one, and it would be all your fault." Tom whispered tenderly, as if he was whispering words of loves and not threatening the death of her family and friends.

Tom saw the different emotions that passed through Ginny's face, and he watched in amusement as she tried to rein in her emotions. She lowered her head slightly, and Tom was entranced by the way the sunlight illuminated her fair and freckled complexion. She was simply glowing, and Tom was struck by how angelic and pure she appeared. His angel, he decided, was simply poetry in motion, and he would be damned if he had to give her up again. With cold calculation, he sauntered up to her and grabbed her trim waist, pulling her flush against his own body. Running both his hands up and down her bare arms, he leaned in and let his lips brushed across her left ear. "The choice is yours, my angel. Come with me willingly and your family keeps their lives. Or raise my ire, and I kill them off one by one in front of you." He lifted her chin and forced her to meet his eyes, "come with me and you will be my queen." He urged, grabbing her right hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tied up on the floor of the gazebo, Harry Potter watched in horror from as Riddle sidled towards Ginny like a snake ready to pounce. He growled angrily as Riddle rubbed his hands (_his_ _filthy murderous hands_) up and down his Ginny's arms. Harry tried once more to shout at him, but the damn silencing spell took away his voice. His eyes widened when he saw Ginny nod at whatever Riddle was saying, and Harry felt sick to his stomach at the victorious leer that appeared on that monster's face as he gazed hungrily at Ginny. Harry wasn't sure what Riddle was saying to his Ginny, but he knew it was nothing good. He knew that Tom Riddle was up to no good, but he was not going to give up his Ginny without a fight. He renewed his thrashing against the magical restraints and nearly snarled in frustration.

Unfortunately for Harry, his struggles caught Tom Riddle's attention and he came over to kneel before Harry. He wasn't a particular violent man by nature, but at that moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of that smug bastard. Tom merely chuckled - a dry mirthless sound – as he watched his mortal enemy's rage and rising anger. "Now now Mr. Potter, I _was _going to remove the silencing spell on you, but it seems that you got a bit of a temper on you." Tom said conversationally. "You know how easy it would be to kill you right now, don't you? Luckily for you, today's visit is about Ginevra, so I'll spare your life for now. Besides, even _I'm _not cruel enough to take your life after taking your fiancée."

Harry's silent cursing halted at Tom's last words, and he stopped his struggles long enough to look up in astonishment. He didn't want to believe his ears, and he started shouting – albeit silently – calling Tom a liar, among other unscrupulous things. Tom paid him no mind, however, and conjured up a sheet of parchment, watching it land on the gazebo next to Harry. "Yes, Mr. Potter, it seems that Ginevra will indeedbe getting married today. Just not to you." Tom's face lit up in a cruel sneer as he continued. "Can't you see the headlines now, 'Boy-who-lived Left at the Altar!' Terrible shame, really." He shook his head in mock pity.

Harry was about to explode with rage when he felt Tom lift the silencing spell. He fixed Riddle with a deadly glare before shouting furiously, "Whatever it is – you won't get away with it. You have all these witnesses and they'll all know that you abducted Ginny!"

"On the contrary, my boy." Tom stopped his pacing and kneeled in front of Harry, making sure that he had the Boy-Who-Lived's full attention. "Everyone here," he gestured to the immobilized guests with his hand, "will believe what I want them to. Only you, Harry Potter, will bear the burden of the truth."

Harry didn't get a chance to figure out what Tom has meant by that before he was clubbed over the head. The last thing he saw was a crying Ginny being led away. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and he watched as his Ginny mouthed two words to him before he fell into unconsciousness.

"_Forgive me_."

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TBC…Find out what happens to Harry, and…is Tom Riddle _really _going to marry Ginny?

**REVIEW IS LOVE**!


	4. Chapter 3: Awakenings

**From last chapter…**

_Harry was about to explode with rage when he felt Tom lift the silencing spell. He fixed Riddle with a deadly glare before shouting furiously, "Whatever it is – you won't get away with it. You have all these witnesses and they'll all know that you abducted Ginny!" _

"_On the contrary, my boy." Tom stopped his pacing and kneeled in front of Harry, making sure that he had the Boy-Who-Lived's full attention. "Everyone here," he gestured to the immobilized guests with his hand, "will believe what I want them to. Only you, Harry Potter, will bear the burden of the truth." _

_Harry didn't get a chance to figure out what Tom has meant by that before he was clubbed over the head. The last thing he saw was a crying Ginny being led away. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and he watched as his Ginny mouthed two words to him before he fell into unconsciousness._

"_Forgive me."_

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Chapter 3: Awakenings

_In his dream, Harry was underwater. His movements felt slow and surreal, and the concept of time – along with his worries and troubles slipped away like sand slipping through fingers. The waters encasing him was murky, and yet comforting. He looked around, and finding nothing of interest, felt calm. For the first time in months – maybe years, actually – Harry was not worried about one thing or another. He merely drifted back and forth, and enjoyed thinking about nothing at all._

Tick, tick, tick

_Harry turned his head around, in a vain attempt to locate the source of the sound. He idly wondered what would make that sound – though, the ticking did sound vaguely familiar. _

Tick, Tick, Tick

_Confused, Harry shook his head – as if he was trying to remember something. He tried to maintain his calm, even as he was filled with a sudden of dread and blind urgency. Well, now he's just angry at how quickly this carefree feeling is slipping away. It seems like everything good in his life is slipping through his fingers, like, just like…_

TICK, TICK, TICK

Harry awoke to the worried faces of Ron and Hermione.

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"He's awake!" A relieved sounding Ron announced to the rest of his family, who all bustled into the Burrow's living room. Hermione ignored the commotion and moved to Harry's side, "how are you feeling?" She asked worriedly.

"Gin..ny. We have to go save Ginny!" Harry managed to get out. Everyone only stared at him with glassy eyes, while Hermione tried to calm him down. "Harry, please, you have to calm down…"

"Calm down! How can I calm down when Ginny's been abducted by Riddle!" Harry erupted, as he shook Hermione's comforting hand on his arm.

"Abducted by Ridd-?... Look, Harry, I know this is rough for you, but….I think the letter will explain everything." Ron interjected, placing one firm hand on Harry while handing him a note with his other hand.

Harry was too angry to argue, and ripped the parchment from Ron's hand without another word.

_**Dear Harry,**_

**_I know it won't really matter what I say right now, but no matter what, I never intended to hurt you. I do hope that you will allow me some time to figure things out on my own. To Mum, Dad, and the rest of the family – I love you all; please allow me the time to find out my own path. _**

_**All my love,**_

_**Ginny **_

As he read the note, his face turned from anger to horror to sheer disbelief – he didn't even notice that he sat back down onto the couch. He looked up and prayed desperately that it was some sort of joke, but the eerie silence in the room told him everything he needed to know.

"This can't be…it just can't…it looks like Ginny's writing, but I saw him take her…I saw it with my own two eyes!" Harry looked to his best friends and silently pleaded with them to believe him. However, all he saw in Ron and Hermione's eyes were pity and sorrow. Feeling his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach, his eyes turned to the Grandfather clock sitting on the mantel.

Tick, tick, tick

The golden hand that represented Ginny sat immobile, and it pointed to "lost."

**TBC**

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A/N: So sorry this took so long, and also for the short length of this chapter! I'm actually not too happy with this chapter, but I wanted to post _something_. Once I get around to chapter 4, I'll probably revise this one as, as well. For those readers who have commented and also placed "Reunited" on story alert, thank you so much! I really hope this is something that you enjoy! I really don't know how I want this to end yet, because I'm really feeling sorry for Harry right now. Don't worry, all the confusion and questions from this chapter will be answered in chapter 4, when we get to Tom and Ginny's point of view. 

Once again, thanks for reading! And please review - I love to hear what you have to say (especially since I'm not sure where I want this story to go.)


	5. Chapter 4: Tom's Musings

Chapter 4: Tom's Musings

Summary: Tom's plan is slowly unfolding, and Ginny tries to come to terms. Un-betaed, as usual, so all mistakes and errors belong to me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I definitely do not own the Bible.

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"…and from Dolohov's report, it seems as if there is a growing interest in our cause since the recent…mental trauma of the Potter brat…"

Tom shifted irritably in his seat as he sat through the weekly Death Eater meeting. While his calculating eyes had never left Lucius, who was giving the report, his mind was wandering elsewhere.

It had been two days since he arrived unannounced at the so-called 'wedding of the century' and had made off with the bride; two days since they had arrived at the Riddle house, and two days since he had last seen Ginevra. It was not intentional to neglect her for so long, but his radical act had not come without its repercussion. Capitalizing on the vulnerablity of the boy hero, he had spent the past two days organizing secret rallies, as well as sending out spies to keep an eye on the Weasleys.

The reports from his spies had pleased him; it looks as if the memory charms he cast on the wedding guests were a success. No one but Potter remembered what really happened, thinking instead that Ginevra had a case of cold feet and had ran off for some time to think. It wouldn't do at all for the public to find out about the _new _Dark Lord before he was ready for his grand entrance, now would it?

"My lord?" the voice of Lucius Malfoy interrupted Tom's thoughts, and he turned to see all of the Death Eaters watching him intently. Apparently, the reports were over, and now everyone was waiting for his commands.

Tom cleared his throat. "Very well, if there is nothing else, then the meeting is adjourned. Lucius, a word, please."

Tom waited until the rest of the Death Eaters have filed out of the room before addressing Lucius. "What have you found out about the spell?"

"The spell, my lord, has long been out of use, and so I've been running into a bit of a problem in locating more information. But, my sources have reported a man who can perform the ceremony in Tibet. They are bringing him back as we speak." Lucius reported dutifully.

"Good, good. And the other matter?" he asked coolly. Lucius squirmed under his master's intense scrutiny. " There is no…that is, I have not found anything concrete yet, my Lord." He offered meekly.

Tom's eyes narrowed in anger before his face reverted back to being expressionless. "Well, that just means you need to work harder, does it not? Do remember that my fate, and the fate of your beloved wife and son, depend on this very task. You may go."

Lucius bowed and tried to stop his hands from shaking as he opened the door of the study. He had caught Tom's thinly veiled threat, and knew that the safety of his family depended on his success in this search. He hoped he was successful, as Lord Voldemort wasn't known for making idle threats, regardless of his age.

Tom stayed in his chair as he thought over what Lucius had reported. He was pleased that they have found someone to perform the spell, but that would not be able to happen until he finds the fountain. He sneered as he headed to Ginevra's quarters, he knew Lucius will finish the job. Tom may have doubts in Lucius' actual abilities, but he had no doubts in the art of torture, and the unqiue motivation that it produces. Slamming the door shut, he dismissed his worries: He would see results, one way or another.

* * *

Ginny sat by the window, watching listlessly as the rain continued its descent from the sky. She had been taken away by Tom two days ago, at her wedding, and it had been raining ever since. She would think it was poetic if she wasn't so confused and guilt-ridden already.

Since she had arrived, she had told herself repeatedly that she only went with Tom to save Harry and her family. _Nothing but a prisoner_, she told herself firmly. Yet, she could not quell that spark of excitement when Tom had embraced her, or when she was shown her new living quarters. She had to admit that she was hardly a prisoner here, more like an honored guest, or even the lady of the house. Her new arrangements were fit for a queen, not to mention she had an house elf, Libby, who waited on her hand and foot.

Ginny heard the door opened quietly and smiled wryly. Speak of the devil. Without turning around, Ginny began her usual speech to the house elf. "Libby, I told you already, I'm fine. If I need any more biscuits or anything I can get them myself."

"While I am glad to hear that you are faring well, I'm afraid I'm not Libby." Said a smooth, deep, and distinctly male voice.

Ginny whipped her head around and stood up nervously. "Tom…I…well, I thought it was Libby…so.."

She stopped her ramblings when Tom gently took her hand brought it close to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "I didn't mean to startle you, my dear Ginevra. I only wanted to see how you were doing." Tom said softly.

His soft and gentle manner had disarmed Ginny. She had expected many things to happen when Tom came to visit, but never…this. Ginny's quietness did not go unnoticed by Tom. "Ginevra, are you all right? Are the living arrangments not satisfactory?" He inquired politely.

Ginny could only gape at him. In the past two days, she had abandoned her fiance at the altar, left with a man who she thought was dead, and had her entire life turned completely upside down in 48 measly hours. Only Tom, with his poisonous charms and polite façade, can ask about her _living arrangements _at a time like this. Sick and tired of the pleasantries and the polite small talk that led to nowhere, Ginny instead blurted out, "How are you here, I thought you died. ...And why am _I _here?"

A slight widening of his eyes was the only outward sign that Tom was surprised by her bluntess. He quickly recovered, however, and smiled indulgently at Ginny. "How I got here…well, there is quite an interesting story behind that. Despite the fact that _Potter _(Ginny flinched at the venom behind the word) did his best to kill me with the Basilik fang, I was merely wounded. Quite badly, mind you, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. When Potter and his merry band of do gooders killed my former self, Lucius was smart enough to heal the damage left by the fang, and open the diary to give me my physical form. I had taken over the work that was started by my former self. Thus, here I am."

"But, if Lucius brought you back to life, how come... he is not dead?" Ginny questioned. She shuddered despite herself; it has been years, but the Chamber of Secrets still haunted her dreams and waking thoughts.

"Ah yes. More accurately, I suppose it was Lucius and an…unfortunate muggle, who had brought me back." At this, Tom flashed a dangerous smile, full of teeth and malice. Ginny suppressed another shudder at the sight.

"And to answer your second question," Tom breezed on as if he had not noticed her horror, "well, that one is relatively easier. You are here because you chose to come back to me, Ginevra." Tom's face softened at that, as he tenderly traced one finger down her cheek. "I have missed you, you know. I would have came for you sooner, if I could." He whispered softly.

Ginny gritted her teeth as she told herself to not fall sway to his charms. Not again, not _again,_ _Ginny_! "I did not choose to go anywhere with you, you forced me!"

With a flick of a wrist, the hand that had so tenderly caressed Ginny's face a second ago now grabbed a fistful of her hair. Ignoring her cry of pain, Tom tugged on her hair before leaning down to her ear again. "I would advise you to speak carefully, Ginevra. 'No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other.+' I do hope that you choose the right master. I have so much in store for you." He placed a chaste kiss on Ginny's forehead before releasing her hair, and he turned to leave.

"I am not eleven anymore, you know." Ginny's quiet voice stopped him in his path. He turned his head and met her defiant gaze. "I know, Ginevra. I'm counting on it."

It was only after she had heard the door shut did Ginny allow her tears to fall, as freely as the rain outside.

* * *

+ _from the book of Matthews, 6:24_

**A/N: And here is chapter 4! Sorry this took like, 3 months, but I hope it has answered some questions. I have up to chapter 7 outlined, and now it's only a matter of writing it. I'm still on winter break, so I'll try to have the next chapter up by next week or sooner. Thank you all for the comments! It really keeps me going when I have no faith in this story. So er, please review and let me know what you think? **

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	6. Chapter 5: Revelations

Chapter 5 Revelations

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or scriptures from the Holy Bible. Uh, who actually owns the bible?

Summary: In which Harry learns a few things, and we learn a few things about Tom. Unbeta'ed, all mistakes and errors (and cheesy scenes!) are mine.

* * *

Harry reached for the bottle and poured himself another shot. He craved the numbness that only whiskey (or tequila, or gin) can bring him. Days bled together into a jumbled heap when he drank, and he can make himself forget all the bad things that had happened. Four days ago, he was the man of the hour, the hero of the wizarding world. More importantly, he had supportive friends, and he was set to marry the love of his life.

_Ginny_.

The thought of his missing fiancée was enough to pierce through his drunken stupor like a sharp knife through the heart. Everything reminded him of Ginny, from her grocery list in the kitchen, to her favorite slippers, to the balcony of their flat, where they have watched many sunsets. It was enough to tempt him to burn the own place down. The only thing to keep him from turning their home to ashes was the dim hope that perhaps one day, she will return.

Pouring himself another shot, he thought back on the last couple of days. Harry had be so sure of what he saw that day (he cannot bring himself to say the word wedding), and has shrugged off the advices from his friends and colleagues. They had tried to persuade him to sit and wait. She just needs some time, they say. Why don't you take some time off, they suggest. However, he didn't listen to them. Instead, he studied the note that Ginny left – scrutinizing every letter, every stroke. He had even asked Hermione to see if the letter was written in a code, or was subject to an obscure spell. Hermione was reluctant, but she had relented to helping him after he saw what a wreck he had become. Together, Harry and Hermione cast spell after spell to see what secrets the letter was hiding. After a week of futile results, Hermione had urged Harry to let it go, and to accept that the letter was simply that; a letter. She tried to tell him that everyone was worried about him, and that the newspapers were calling him "crazy" and "attention seeking." He tried not to get lost in a wave of bitterness: everyone was worried about him, but no one was going to help him find Ginny, or even believe him.

Instead, Harry had simply thanked her for all the help, and had ushered a worried Hermione out of his flat. He knew that Ginny was taken by Riddle, and if the letter did not hold a clue, then he simply must look elsewhere. He really did not care what others thought of him, as long as he got Ginny back. Not for the first time, he wished Dumbledore were still alive. Three weeks after the death of Voldemort, Dumbledore had died peacefully in his sleep. He passed on with little fanfare; it was as if with the defeat with Voldemort, Dumbledore was able to leave the world with no regrets.

Harry was still trying to get used to life without the support and advice from Dumbledore. He would know what to do, Dumbledore always knew what to do, Harry thought glumly. Looking back now, Harry saw that Dumbledore was there every time he faced peril. From the moment he stepped into Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been there. Besides Ron and Hermione, he had been Harry's staunchest supporter. Harry knew he would not have survived the Chamber of Secrets without Dumbledore's help, or the TriWizard tournament in fourth year, for that matter.

Then it hit him: the TriWizard Tournament. Rita Skeeter, the unregistered Animagus, had covered much of the Tournament in her beetle form, stirring up waves of trouble for both Harry and Hermione with her scathing articles. And while Skeeter wasn't at Harry and Ginny's ceremony in _human _form (it was supposed to be a private ceremony, after all,) she could have been there in her beetle form, covering the highly anticipated wedding in an exclusive report. In that case, Skeeter might remember what had happened – _truly happened – _that day. The chances were slim, but Harry needed this to be true. He had already lost so much. This theory was all he had right now.

"I have to find her," Harry exclaimed, as he jumped up from the table and stumbled his way to the door. Before he could reach the door, however, his head began to spin, and, for the second time that week, Harry lost consciousness.

* * *

An old waltz flowed through the ballroom as the dancers lined up and awaited their cue. The waltz was slow and regal, and Tom watched idly as the dancers, dressed in elegant laces and expensive silk, circled and spun around the Malfoy ballroom. From his place at the back wall, he couldn't help feel like an outsider looking in, even when this was _his _party. Lucius had organized this event, a little get-together for all the Voldemort supporters, to celebrate the rebirth (reappearance? He wasn't sure what the term was) of Tom Riddle, of the new dark lord. So why was he skulking here in the back of the room?

Though the party had gone off without a hitch, he was still in a state of nervousness. Tom will admit that he was still slightly bothered by the conversation he had with Ginevra had, but he was more worried about the lack of progress in the search for the Fountain of Youth, than about a mere lover's spat.

When Lucius had brought him back, it had given Tom a new lease on life, literally. He now had the opportunity to go back and fix all of the mistakes that his former self had made. However, that also meant that all the abilities that Voldemort possessed were lost, as well. Which is why at this moment, Tom is totally, and vulnerably, mortal. Until Tom gets a hold of the Fountain, he cannot truly come into his power. He wanted to be more than another dark lord; he wanted to be a living god.

Eager for news on the Fountain, he turned his gaze to Lucius, who was standing some distances away, waiting until Tom addresses him. "Updates, Lucius?"

"My lord would be pleased to know that the priest from Tibet has arrived, and is currently resting upstairs in the guest wing. He is ready to perform the ceremony whenever my lord wishes." Lucius answered quietly, not wishing to draw any attention to their conversation.

"Very good. Tell him he has a few days to rest from the journey, and I will call on him in a week's time. Now, what about the other matter?" Tom queried.

An increasingly nervous Lucius stumbled over his report. "Well, you see my lord, your loyal servant has tried every method imagined, ..And...and, well, the problem is…the Fountain is a myth, an old wives tale. There is no way for us to find it." Lucius chanced a glance up at the Dark Lord. Seeing his master's furious gaze, Lucius had a sudden image of his wife and son under the crucio spell, as their screams and cries of anguish echoed in his ears. Swallowing down the taste of bile in his mouth, he pressed on with his report. "B-but, in our research, I had come across sources documenting the Original Tree. And I have sent a team to check out the location."

Tom's enraged face now took on a thoughtful face at that bit of information. "The Original Tree, you mean the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil?" He asked.

Lucius nodded fervently, "Yes, there are numerous documents dating from around the time of the Bible that states the location of the Tree. Legend has it that consuming a fruit from the Original Tree will grant immortal life+."

Tom mulled this over, he had heard all about the stories of the Bible from his days in the orphanage, but never for a moment did he think that there were any truths behind it. Nonetheless, if the Fountain of Youth was a fake, then this was his (_and her_) only shot at immortality.

"Very well Lucius. You have a week. After that, I want results."

"Of course my lord." A relieved Lucius answered. Seeing that Tom has already turned around, Lucius took that as his cue to leave.

oooo

At half past 2, Tom decided he had had enough of the merry-making and apparated back to Riddle Manor. He found the crowd stifling, and missed the quiet comfort of home. More importantly, he missed Ginevra. He decided to pay her a short visit before retiring for the night. He hated having to spend the nights away from her, especially after being separated from her for so long, but… Patience, he told himself, patience.

Considering the late hour, Tom was surprised to see Ginevra awake and staring out the window. She turned towards the opened door, and for a moment, Tom was struck by how the moonlight made her skin appear translucent. She…glowed. Ginevra normally was all strong will and passion; but sitting under the moonlight, she looked vulnerable, and Tom, for the first time in his life, wanted to protect someone else than himself.

The silence dragged on as Tom continued to study her, until Ginny, unnerved by his intense gaze, spoke first. "What are you doing up so late?"

Broken out of his revelries by her soft, hushed voice, his lips turned up into a smile before he replied, "I could ask you the same thing."

They fall back into a silence, as Ginny turned around and stared out into the window again. Displeased that her attention was no longer focused on her, Tom took out his wand, and with a wave of his hand, the waltz that he had hear earlier at Malfoy manor, filled the small room with his haunting melody. He walked over to a surprised Ginny and took her hand. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he began swaying in beat to the music. "What are you doing?" Ginny asked warily, even though she had fallen in step with Tom as soon as he started moving. "It's just a dance, Ginevra." He murmured quietly. When he felt the tension drain out of her body, he brought her closer to his body, and she rested her head on his chest.

The pair continued to dance to their own music until the first ray of sunshine peeked in through the bedroom window. After watching the sunrise, an exhausted Ginny finally collapsed on her bed and promptly fell asleep. For you, Tom thought as he kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth, only for you would I let down my armor.

* * *

_+ While the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is from the Bible, there's no talk of it granting immortal life. I just made that part up, because I needed something to work with the story. I have no idea where all of this biblical reference are coming from. This is the last one, though. (Er, I think.)_

**A/N: I hope the ending wasn't TOO cheesy. Thanks for all the supportive reviews last time, it really put a smile on my face. Commenting is love. **_  
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	7. Chapter 6: Proof

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor any of the other characters, places, and things that you recognize. Shocking, I know.

Summary: In which Harry's bad luck gets even worse, and finally - a wedding(?) _  
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* * *

_ From chapter 5_

…_Rita Skeeter, the unregistered Animagus, had covered much of the Tournament in her beetle form, stirring up waves of trouble for both Harry and Hermione with her scathing articles. Moreover, while Skeeter was not at Harry and Ginny's ceremony in human form (it was supposed to be a private ceremony, after all,) she could have been there in her beetle form, covering the highly anticipated wedding in an exclusive report. In that case, Skeeter might remember what had happened – truly happened – that day. The chances were slim, but Harry needed this to be true. He had already lost so much. This theory was all he had right now._

"_I have to find her," Harry exclaimed, as he jumped up from the table and stumbled his way to the door. Before he could reach the door, however, his head began to spin, and, for the second time that week, Harry lost consciousness. _

* * *

Chapter 6 – Proof

She has seen, and reported on, many a strange things in her career. Yet, as she sat in her dark apartment, she realized that this was the first that that she had felt real fear. She went into journalism because of her love of uncovering the truth, and she was filled with a sense of pride every time one of her stories graced the front covers of the Daily Prophet. She would – and had – go to great lengths for her stories. The real reward of her job was the share the truth – no matter how sensational and scandalous – with the general public. The fame and popularity; that was only icing on the cake.

When Rita had successfully snuck into Harry and Ginny's private wedding, (as a beetle of course, there was no other way she would have been able to gain entrance into _that_ high security event without an invitation), she had congratulated herself on gaining access to one of the biggest and most talked about stories in recent history. However, she was unprepared for the interruption of the ceremony, and almost fell over in shock and fear at the appearance of Lord Vol-… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. With a sick realization, Rita knew that she is now in possession of the single most sensational piece of news in the past hundred years, which would surely cause a huge reaction with the public. Yet, this was the first time in her life when she was actually afraid to run a story. The irony of the situation was not lost, even on her frazzled mind.

Rita knew that if she decided to run a story about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the least of her worries would be to try to verify her facts. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named obviously wanted to keep his resurrection (or was it rebirth? Rita was not sure what the technical term is) a secret, and she knew that her life would be in danger. Nevertheless, she also could not just sit and do nothing when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back and probably rebuilding his forces! Seeing at how tormented and ostracized Potter has been also wracked her with guilt. Despite her less-than-flattering stories about him during the TriWizard tournament, she actually did not dislike the little sod. His self-righteousness was a bit much at times, but deep down Rita had to respect Potter for saving the Wizarding World.

At that realization, Rita Skeeter realized that she had to get in touch with Harry Potter. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and now she was finally able to see clearly. She needed to get in touch with Harry Potter and tell him that she witnessed the whole thing.

After spending over an hour reworking several drafts, Rita finally finished her note to Harry, and sent it off with her owl. Exhausted, but feeling accomplished, Rita settled down for the night. She was so tired she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. When the hooded figure emerged from the shadows to stand at the foot of her bed, Rita did not even get a chance to scream at all. _This is how it ends, after all, _was the reporter's last conscious thought before Rita Skeever ceased to be.

* * *

The sound of muffled voices woke him from his slumber, and with a groan, Harry realized that he was no longer in his apartment. As he tried to sit up, the sharp smell of antiseptic assaulted his nose, and he fell back onto the bed with an audible _oomph_. His failed attempt at getting out of the hospital bed had alerted the St. Mungos nurse, and she pulled back the privacy curtain around Harry's bed to check on him.

"Oh, you're awake, Mr. Potter! How are you feeling?" The nurse asked as she checked over his vitals. Still feeling a bit groggy, it took awhile for Harry to register what she was asking. "I'm…alright, I think. Just not sure how I got here. How long have I been out?" The realization that time is of the essence jolted Harry wide-awake and he was now at full alert. He was wasting precious time, lying here at St. Mungos when he should be contacting Rita Skeeter and getting information about Ginny. "Well??" Harry prompted impatiently as the nurse ignored his questions in favor of fussing over him.

"Hmm? Oh, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger brought you here 2 days ago. They said that they had found you unconscious in your apartment." The nurse replied dutifully, now satisfied that her patient's vital was normal. "Two days?? I've been asleep for two days?" Harry was mentally kicking himself for wasting so much time. "I need to get out of here, I need to find Skeeter." He exclaimed as he threw off his blanket and leapt from the bed.

The nurse was, surprisingly, ready for this brash and sudden behavior from her patient. She mentally thanked Ms. Granger for warning her about this possibility. "No, Mr. Potter, you will NOT be going anywhere, you need to rest, especially since you collapsed from exhaustion and fatigue in the first place." The dark-haired nursed responded primly, before guiding Harry firmly by the arm back into the bed. Harry scowled but allowed himself to be led back to the bed. Having been friends with Hermione for all these years allowed him to know a losing battle when he saw one. He decided he would play the part of the willing patient, and bide his time before slipping off to find Rita Skeever. His thoughts swirled around in his head, anxiety and fear pulsing off him in waves. _How does one rest when the fate of the Wizarding World lies upon a beetle?_ He thought helplessly to himself. Resigning temporarily to his fate, Harry Potter sat and waited for night.

-- -- -- --

The soft, even chimes of the grandfather clock shook the dozing patient out of his fitful sleep. Harry bolted up out of his hospital bed, and was instantly at full alert. He surveyed his surroundings, and seeing that there were no nurses or mediwitches, he began to dress. He changed leisurely out of his drab olive hospital gown, and Harry was surprised at how refreshed he felt after the short nap. Reluctantly, he conceded that he had definitely not been sleeping enough recently, but with so much weighing on his mind, it's no surprise. Thoughts of Ginny, Riddle, and Rita Skeever flooded him with a new sense of urgency, and he quickly finished dressing and, with his wand in hand, began his escape from St. Mungos.

It was slightly past 2am in the morning, and predictably, the quiet hum of the hospital was only periodically interrupted by the bustling of a Medic-Witch, set on fixing whatever emergency. The assistant sitting at the hospital front desk was engrossed in a book, and Harry managed to slip out of St. Mungos with no detection at all. Harry mentally congratulated himself on his stealth escape, and hoped that the rest of his trip will go just as successfully.

Rita Skeever lived in a plain, unremarkable little cottage on the edge of Ottery St. Catchpole, skirting on the side of the River Otter. It was a simple, light blue cottage, slightly sent off from the main street, and if Harry squinted in the darkness, he could make out light pink rose bushes in the front of the house. The unlit cottage looked unwelcoming and very ordinary, he had expected the reported to have a more flashy and obnoxious house, befitting her own personality. Harry strolled up to the entrance, and stepping over several untouched issues of the Daily Prophet strewn at the front porch, and knocked on the door. He held his breath and waited for several minutes, straining his eyes to catch any sound coming from inside the house. Nothing. No sound, no voices, no light to indicate that there was anyone inside. Harry tried the doorknob and found it unlock. A sense of dread washed over him, and he grimly opened the door and stepped inside. He was instantly hit with a heavy stench of decay, and stumbled back a few paces. Steadying himself against the doorway, he started forward, remembering to breathe through his mouth. The tiny cottage was clean and cluttered free, saved for the dining room table, which had sheets of unused parchments and a quill, and had many crumpled up parchments littering around the table itself. It looked as if Rita had some trouble composing a letter, if Harry guessed correctly. Curiosity got the best of him and he picked up one of the crumpled parchments, and smoothed it over the table. In the darkness of the room, he was barely able to make out the writing. He scanned the parchment and his eyes widened in surprise. "Dear Harry…." The letter started out. Harry's mind reeled with the possibilities. She was trying to contact me, but…I never got anything from her.

…He jumped in placed when the distinct sound of someone (or someones) apparating behind him. "FREEZE, DO NOT MOVE." A loud, booming voice commanded, and Harry stopped dead in his tracks. "Kingsley?" He asked, turning around hesitantly to face his old friend. The professional façade of Auror Shacklebolt faltered for a moment when he recognized who the intruder was. "Harry…what? What are you doing…?" The Auror began, but his confusion left as soon as it appears, and Harry found himself again standing in front of an Auror, and not his friend Kingsley. "Harry Potter, you are being placed under arrest for further question in regards to the murder of Rita Skeever. Please hand over your wand and follow me." Kingsley informed him gravely. The words were professionally spoken, but Harry saw the concern and the unspoken apology in his eyes. Two other Aurors, dressed in their distinct blood-red uniforms have stepped into the dining room (backup, Harry thought vaguely, in case I put up a fight). In a daze, he handed over his wand to Kingsley's outstretch hand and allowed himself to be guided out of the house. The house was alight, as Aurors bustled around collecting evidence and questioning neighbors. Harry knew he received more than a few curious glances and knew the vicious rumors would start again. It seems as if his nightmare had just begun.

_Ginny, wherever you are, wait for me! I am coming for you..._Harry pleaded in his head as he allowed himself to be led back to the Auror Headquarter.

* * *

_A painted cage is still a cage, after all._

Ginny stared at the scrambled eggs and potatoes on her plate, but made no move to eat her breakfast, instead settling for moving it around the china plate. Sighing in frustration, she dropped her fork with a _clang_, and turned to stare out the window. The shining sun and the bright blue sky seemed to mock the turmoil and unease that was going on inside of her. She had agreed to go with Tom only a few days, but she already feared for her sanity. How many days had it been since she had gone outdoors, or talked to someone aside from Tom or her house-elf, Libby? Even with Tom, she only saw him during dinnertime, as they sat before delicate china plates and sumptuous foods, and struggled to find conversation. Had it truly only been a few days? Why can she not remember a life before here? Her time at Hogwarts, with Harry, and even her childhood in the Burrow seemed like a dream. Perhaps it really was a dream, she thought wildly. Perhaps she had been slumbering and now that she was finally awake, maybe this reality – Tom's reality – is the real thing.

"Good morning, Ginevra. How are you this morning, my lady?" Tom's sure and confident voice broke through Ginny's increasingly muddled thoughts, and she turned to face the speaker. As usual, when standing in his presence, Ginny feels her skin prickle, as if his gaze was capable of physically touching her. She admitted to herself that it was not a bad feeling, it simply made her aware, and more alert. And from personal experience, it always paid to be alert when one was in Tom Riddle's presence.

"Good morning Tom. I am well, thank you, and you?" Ginny parroted back at him. He had been the picture of politeness and chivalry; chock full of quaint how-do-you-dos and pleasant smiles. As usual, Tom led this dance, setting the tempo and the pace, and Ginny found herself forced to follow his lead. She knew he did want her simply for pleasant small talk and for a dinner companion, but she had no other choice but to wait for him to share his plan with her. Judging by the smug look and barely there smirk on his handsome face, Ginny had an inkling that she did not need to wait much longer. She sat down at the dining room table and looked up at him expectantly.

"I am…fine, thank you. I had come to see you because there was something I wanted to tell you, or, rather, show you, as the case may be." Without further ado, Tom placed the Daily Prophet on the cleared breakfast table in front of Ginny. The silence grew heavier and heavier in the room as Ginny scanned the headline, and in horror, read it again.

"Harry Potter: Prime Suspect in Rita Skeever Murder'?" Ginny read aloud, meeting Tom's eyes in total shock and disbelief. His face was blank and devoid of expression, and he simply told her to read the accompanying article.

_ Daily Prophet Correspondents have an exclusive insider tip that famed legend of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter (also known as "The-Boy-Who-Lived") is the primary suspect in the murder of Ms. Rita Skeever. Aurors have arrived at Ms. Skeever's home after her neighbors and employers have expressed concerned at her absence for several days. Mr. Potter was found in her home, and is being detained for further questioning by the Aurors. Ms. Skeever was found murdered in her bed. No further details have been given on the cause of death or the alleged victim's motives._

"No…this has got to be a mistake. He was framed! Harry would never kill anyone!" Ginny exclaimed vehemently, ripping up the newspaper, as if destroying the words on the page would somehow stop the accusations thrown at her former lover. Filled with anger and indignation she turned to Tom. "Why did you show me this? Why are you trying to feed me lies?" She accused. Tom rose from his chair and walked over to kneel before her before speaking. "I am not trying to feed you anything, Ginevra. And I only showed you because you deserved to know. Moreover,…frankly, I am worried. Can't you see that he is a dangerous man? Highly unstable. I don't want to think what would happen to you if you were to go back to him…" He murmured quietly.

With those few words, Ginny felt all of her anger seep out. "What are you saying, Tom?" She struggled to pay attention, trying to calm herself down, even though right now her heart felt like it was going to beat itself out of her chest. She felt so tired, so sad, and so _betrayed. _What had happened to her beloved Harry? Didn't he know that all her sacrifices had been to save him? How could he do something like that?

"I'm asking you to stay with me, Ginevra. Stay by my side, be with me when I take my rightful place atop the Wizarding World and bring some peace to all of this chaos." Tom spoke urgently, as if the words could not come out quickly enough. "Ginevra," he started again, this time grasping both of her hands, "your place is by my side." Tom lifted her hands to his lips and placed gentle kisses on each of her hand. Ginny was still, her eyes fixated on their entwined hands. She felt so tired all of a sudden, as if she had been left carrying the world's entire burden for too long. But, Tom is here now. _Tom will take care of me, _Ginny thought dreamily to herself before falling into his waiting arms.

-- -- --

They were bonded together that night, the bonding ceremony performed by a famous monk from Tibet, so somber and so old it looked as if his face was carved from stone. He tied a red string around both Tom and Ginny's left wrists, and Ginny watched in fascination as the monk chanted over them, and the string shimmered softly before disappearing altogether._The string symbolizes fate_, the monk had announced gravely,_and now your fates are forever intertwined. Choose your paths wisely_. With those final words, the monk had bowed deeply before leaving the large audience room. Left on their own, Tom turned to Ginny with a hungry look and pulled her towards him. He kissed her fiercely and possessively, a lustful and stormy kiss that hints at other passions to come.

In all of her imaginings, Ginny never thought she would spend her wedding night on the cool marble floor of an audience room. Tom had made love to her there, too impatient to even apparate back to their bedroom. The feel of him (_inside her, next to her, all around her_) dictated all her senses, and she could think of nothing else, not even the discomfort of a cold, hard floor. He colored her thoughts and filled her world in a way no one else has ever been able to do. She lost herself to the sensations, to the pleasures, and thought no more.

After all of their lust and passions had been spent, Tom had apparated them back to their new bedroom, and he gently placed his wife on the king size bed. He gazed at her sleeping form, and allowed himself a small smile. Bonding himself to Ginevra was not a necessary part of the plan, but it proved to be entertaining, nonetheless. Tom watched as she stirred from her slumber, her eyes blinked once, twice, before opening and looking straight at him.

"Why did you bond yourself to me, Tom? I thought you were going to kill me." His new wife asked. Now it was Tom's turn to blink. He had not expected that. He quickly schooled his expression and turned a patronizing smile to the redhead, and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Now why would I have wanted that, Ginevra? You are no use to me dead, anyway."

* * *

** A/N: I honestly was going to give up on this story, but I was still getting reviews. That really kept me going, simply knowing that someone out that actually enjoyed this story (besides myself, of course!) It's been a long time, and I'm sorry for the long delay. But thank you to all the reviewers, you guys are the ones who keep me going, seriously. On that note, please review and let me know what you think of this chapter! This is un-betaed and also a bit rushed, so any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. **


	8. Chapter 7: Truth and Lies

**Disclaimer**: It's but oh what, five months since I've updated? Nope, still don't owe Harry Potter. Wait! Let me check aga-...nope, still not mine. P

* * *

Chapter 7 – Truth and Lies

_Things are not always as they seem_

"How is your tea, Mistress? Do you need any more sugar? Or perhap Libby will get some biscuits and jam to go with the tea?" The small house elf chirped excitedly, her head bobbing up and down as if she could not stand still.

"No, Libby, I am fine, thank you." Ginny smiled her thanks to Libby as she slowly sipped on her black tea. Checking one more time that everything was in place for her mistress, Libby curtsied and on silent feet left Ginny alone to partake her breakfast.

The smile fell off her face as soon as she was alone, and Ginny found herself shivering despite the warm air blowing in through the open window. She hated the silence and the stillness. Perhaps hate was too strong a word, but she was simply not used to this quiet. Growing up with six older brothers would do that to anyone, she supposed. And as trying as that was, what she wouldn't give right now for another Quidditch match with her brothers at the Burrow, or for some of her Mum's delicious ham at Christmas time. She tried to stifle a sob, and hastily brought a hand up to cover her mouth. She missed them, pure and simple. When Tom was around, he demanded all of her attention and energy, all of _her_, in essence. And so whenever they were together, Ginny had no room to miss her family or Hermione or Har-….she didn't finish that train of thought. She knew she still loved Tom, despite all that had happened and all that he had done (All that he had put her through.) But even her love for him did not take away the ache of being away from her family, of having no other company besides the a well meaning house elf and the Dark Lord himself.

Why _does_ he leave her alone all the time? Ginny thought angrily to herself. If he cared enough to bond them together, why didn't he care enough to see her outside of meal times? Of course, they had been sharing a bed since their binding, but lately Tom doesn't retire to bed until well she had fallen asleep. If it weren't for the ruffled sheets and the dent made by his head on the pillow, Ginny would have never known he was there in the first place. Unbidden, one of her worse fears sprang to the front of her mind. Could he have already grown tired of her? Perhaps her novelty has worn off already. Maybe it was all just a game to him!

Angry, hot tears spilled out of her eyes and onto her cheeks as she tortured herself with self doubts and fears, her breakfast long forgotten on the beautifully set table.

On second thought, hate was not too strong of a word. Ginevra Riddle hated the silence and the stillness.

* * *

_**Elsewhere, later that night**  
_

Night falls heavily on Knockturn Alley, and under the safety of the shadows, trouble and evil broods in the gloomy night. While the rest of the Wizarding World are curled up safely in their homes, the wicked comes out to play.

Two shadowy figures stood under the sign of an empty, boarded up apothecary, and paid no attention to the illegal activities going on around them, so caught up in their conversation were they.

"You are sure, absolutely sure?"

"Positive, sir. I've seen them with my own eyes, so I know. We had one of the guides test it, and it's - …it was …it was definitely what we sought. I'm willing to bet my life on it."

"Excellent, and let us both pray that it won't come to that." Both men paled at the omninous thought. "I will send the good news to the Master at once."

Finishing their business, they disappeared into the cool night air and if anyone had caught a glimpse of a the man with long blond hair and pale grey eyes under his hood, no one said a word.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic's Auror department was a fluttering with activity, more so than usual. Talks of the death of Rita Skeeter – as well as who the prime suspect for said murder flooded the office from the highest officials to the lowliest paper pushers. Harry Potter not only saved the Wizarding World from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but after the war he had become a respectable Auror after completing the training. Operative word here being "had." And now he was back at his work place, but definitely on the other (the _wrong) _side, as the only suspect for Skeever's death. This piece of juicy gossip had everyone wagging their tongues. The-boy-who-lived indeed, they whispered and cackled amongst themselves. More like the boy-who-lived-a-lie, the malicious ones would say. It was due time for someone to take him down a notch or two, jealous and bitter voices hissed.

Harry Potter sat through this chaos calmly, untouched by the pettiness and malice directed towards him. He had suffered through worse, in fact, he felt that he had led his whole life under a giant microscope. He had been the talk of town for most of his life, so why would he let that bother him now? No, Harry had much more important things to think of. Like Ginny, and Riddle. And Ginny _with _Riddle. His insides churned at the mere thought of that. _Wedding, he had take Ginny away at our wedding. What does he mean by that? Where were Ron and Hermione? They would help him figure it out, more importantly, they would believe him, believe him when he tells people that Ginny did NOT run away. She was taken by the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord was back and oh – Merlin why – _

"…Harry? Harry! Are you alright?" A shrill, panicked voice burst through Harry's inner diatribe. Flashes of brown hair and large brown eyes bright with unshed tears entered told him that it was Hermione (that, and her shrill voice had quite a distinct quality) who had burst in. A shock of short red hair behind her tells Harry that Ron was right behind her. Noting Harry's glazed eyes and tired expression, Hermione tried to reach him again. "Harry, you're worrying us. Come on, let's get you home.' Hermione urged softly.

"Home?" His ears have perked up at that word. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in the waiting cell since the Aurors (his colleagues, his very own colleagues Luther and Trent) came in to interrogate him. He estimated probably seven or eight hours, considering that the sun is already out, and he was taken into the Aurors' offices late last night. After they had gotten his statement and asked about his whereabouts, they had simply told him to wait. He figured the waiting was to stall for time for them to search Skeeter's residence to see if any evidence turn up. He knew that he had nothing to worry about since he didn't kill anyone, but he was still tense, what with the way his luck has been going lately….

"Home?" He echoed hopefully. Ron and Hermione watched with relief as Harry's previously glazed eyes regained a bit of their focus. "Yes, home." Ron rushed to reassure his best friend. "I just passed Kingsley and he said that you are free to go. They checked up on your story about being in St. Mungos' last night, and the nurses and Mediwitches vouched for you, on top of our statements." Ron gestured to Hermione and himself with his hand. "Kingsley believed that Skeever was murdered last night, so you being in St. Mungos' placed you elsewhere." There was a pause here, because he reluctantly continued. "Not to mention, the teams found nothing no conclusive evidence on the property, even it it was made to look like Skeever was trying to reach you…" Ron trailed off, unconvincingly. "Look, mate, I can only imagine how horrible this is for you, but er, Hermione and I have been talking. We think that this is all a set up to get you in trouble. Someone has it out for you."

Harry fumed as he figured out what Ron was fumbling around to say. "Wait, trying? 'Made to look like?' Set up? This was no set up! You….you don't believe me, do you?" Harry shot a glare at his two best friends, and their doubtful expressions said everything he needed to know. " I can't believe that I told you what happened, didn't I? She WAS trying to contact me! Most likely to tell me about Voldemort or what she saw at our wed- ..that…that…day!" Harry practically shouted at his friends. He had almost said "_our wedding_" but a sharp, fiery pain in his heart stopped him from uttering those two words. He supposed, in all technicality, it was an "almost wedding", because they never actually went through with the ceremony.

Harry froze, and for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he felt his blood run cold at remembering what Voldemort had said at the wedding. _Yes, Mr. Potter, it seems that Ginevra will indeed be getting married today. Just…not to you." _

The meaning of his words sank in, and rage that was overpowered by his despair came roaring out like a dragon on a rampage. Harry knew that he had to get Ginny back, one way or another. He had kill Voldemort before and he will do it again, with a song in his heart, actually. This time, it was personal.

Turning to Ron and Hermione, he felt like a whole new person who finally figured out his life purpose. "We need to find Ginny, and we need to find her **now**."

* * *

**_Back at the Malfoy, the next day_**

It was an early morning, and the morning sun had barely settled into the sky when the portraits along the main hall in Malfoy manor were awakened by shouting and the stomps of heavy boots across the wooden floor. One portrait, of a pale middle aged woman, with flowing blonde hair and a blood red dress, watched the spectacle with a detached interest. Her lazy blue eyes were half opened as the Lord of the manor ran around frantically, searching for something or someone.

Mercifully, Lucius seemed to have found what he had sought, and the hall fell once again in blissful silence. Really, the portrait thought to herself as she once again close her eyes, the youth really do make far too much noise these days.

--

In all his years of living at the Manor, his drawing room had never looked so….ominous. He stood in front of the dark mahogany door, and simply stared. He knew, rationally, that nothing has changed about the _room _itself, but merely, it was the man who sat behind it that made it so frightening. This man …he truly was more than a man, with so much power and magic. And more than simply being powerful, he was efficient, ruthlessly so, and he made sure it was fresh in the minds of his followers. His power was something so great and so absolute, that even those who were most faithful were not immune to his wrath. Not even someone like Bellatrix, Lucius added wryly as an afterthought, thinking back on how her plan to bring back the dark lord had cost the woman her sanity.

Straightening himself, as he didn't wish to keep his Lord waiting, Lucius knocked on the door smartly. Upon receiving verbal permission to enter, he opened the door and respectfully stepped in.

Walking up to the desk with his eyes firmly trained on the ground, Lucius knelt on one knee before the Dark Lord. "My lord, I have returned with the items that you have requested." With his head still down in reverence, Lucius silently lifted the latch on the wooden box, and held it open for inspection. He heard movement – he guessed his Lord had risen from his place behind the desk – and felt a presence before him. The smell of cigar smoke filled his nose as Lucius trained his eyes on a pair of black leather shoes. He suppressed a shudder at the close proximity of the Dark Lord and waited with bated breath as his Master withdrew a single red apple from the proffered box. Only then did Lucius dared to raise nervous eyes to Lord Voldemort, trying in vain to gauge any sort of reaction on his impassive face. Voldemort held the shiny red apple between his thumb and forefinger, slowly rotating the fruit as he stared on intently. It looked…ordinary. Voldemort did not know what to expect, but he supposed that the fruit from the mythical Tree of Knowledge would look, well, not so ordinary.

He turned piercing blue eyes back to the nervous man kneeling in front of him. "This is it, Lucius? This is supposed to be the fruit that will grant eternal life?" The hint of doubt in Lord Voldemort's question did not escape Lucius, who struggled to not squirm (Squirm_! Him! Lucius Malfoy) _under the Dark Lord's intense stare.

"Yes my Lord, this is the fruit from the fabled Tree of Knowledge from the Muggle's ancient texts. Our source found it heavily guarded by a small nomadic tribe, way out in the desert. It took a bit of….persuasion on our part before the tribe knew that it was in their best interest to give us the fruits. Everyone around those parts knew of the stories, but because of superstitions, none had dared to take the fruits for themselves." Lucius reported dutifully.

Icy, blue eyes shifted thoughfully back to the red apple in his hands. Lord Voldemort contemplated what Lucius was saying as his eyes stay riveted on the apple in his grasp. "And you have...taken care of them, I assume?"

The blond bows even lower. "Yes my Lord, those who have seen us were all disposed of. They will have no opportunity to speak of what occurred." Or ever speak again, in general, Lucius added in his own head, with no small amount of satisfaction.

"Most excellent. Men such as those who cannot appreciate a fine treasure such as this are nothing but fools, and do not deserve mercy. Don't you agree, Lucius?"

"My Lord speaks wisely, as usual." His knee was started to ache, but Lucius dared not stand without the explicit permission of his Master, who gave no indication of sorts.

"But...and, it seems there is always a but - the main question here is, will it work?" Lord Voldemort's eyes gleamed with curiosity and lust. "If this is what you claim it is, then I am holding immortality in my hands." He moves the apple to his mouth.

One bite, two bite. Voldemort pauses to chew. Another bite. Lucius watches with bated breath as the apple decreases to nothing but the core.

The two men stayed silent as they waited for something…anything to show them it had worked.

They wait, but nothing happened.

Lord Voldemort frowned, and when he conjured a long, sharp knife Lucius feared for the worse. Frosty blue eyes met with pale grey eyes, now wide with fear. And even as Lord Voldemort pointed the knife towards him, Lucius found that he could not look away.

The knife slashed against skin and the thick metallic smell of blood filled the air. Lucius looked on in horror at the red, angry gash across his Master's arm. Horror turned to awe as he watched the scar shimmer slightly, before disappearing completely. The scar was gone, completely gone, not even a trace of blood to show that it had ever been there.

Lord Voldemort looked up and this time, Lucius met his eyes eagerly. His eyes danced with thoughts of riches and power. He had helped his Lord and Master achieve immortality, and now he knew that his hard work will be rewarded, and his place in the inner circle undisputable.

The Dark Lord smiled, "For bringing me this wonderful gift, you will be greatly rewarded. Rise, Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy hid a smirk and got up slowly. He was still smiling when Voldemort whispered, "Oblivate."

His eyes glazed over, his trademark smirk still frozen into place.

"Your reward, my loyal servant, is walking out of this situation with your life and sanity intact. Which is more than what I can say for the fools who guarded the Tree in the first place. Now go, and forget all about this assignment."

Lucius bowed once, before taking leave of the Dark Lord. As he reentered the main hallway, he was astounded to see that it was almost 12:30. He was supposed to meet Narcissa for tea at half past noon, and hurried to the conservatory. Where did the time go, he thought idly to himself.

And during their tea, if the sliced apples invoked thoughts of something vaguely important, he never did figure out what it was.

* * *

Ginevra Riddle's hands shook – with shock? Relief? Rage? She no longer knew – as she gripped the Daily Prophet tightly in her hands.

_HARRY POTTER SET FREE – RESULTS AT SKEEVER'S RESIDENCE INCONCLUSIVE._

What did that mean, then? Inconclusive? ….Did that mean he was innocent? Ginny wished the newspaper would just give up the context of being objective and say what it really meant! Did they just mean that they couldn't find enough evidence to convict him? Couldn't they have just say that instead?

Ginny stopped midthought as her thoughts reeled all around her. No, no, NO, she chanted to herself. She did NOT want to believe that Harry is a murderer. But…she also didn't want to believe that bonding herself to Tom was a mistake, either. She didn't believe in mistakes, everything happened for a reason. She wanted to believe in it, she had to believe in it. In anguish and doubt, she felt her knees give out, and she yielded into the soft, pliant carpet. There will be no hero to catch her this time.

--

"Libby, where is Ginevra?"

The house elf squeaked in surprised and turned to face her master and bowed respectfully. "Mistress is in the breakfast room, Master. Should Libby go an' get her Master?"

"No, no need. I'll find her myself. But do take this, juice this for breakfast, and make sure she drinks all of it, you understand?" An object came hurdling towards her and Libby stumbled to catch it.

"Yes Master, Libby will make sure Mistress take all of this!" The house elf squeaked nervously. But Master had already stalked away towards the breakfast room. Only when the footsteps have faded away did Libby straightened up and peered curiously at the apple in her hands.

- - --

From the doorway, Tom silently watched his new wife's inner struggle over something as she collapsed onto her knees before the open window. Wife….he is still savoring that word, like the subtle sweetness of an bottle aged red wine, potent and heady. But it didn't take a legilimens to figure out that something was bothering her. And Tom knew that the discarded Daily Prophet had something to do with her anguish. "I will not have you doubt your decision to stay with me every time a news article on that Potter brat comes out, Princess. You knew what it meant when you said yes, and you know that I keep what is mine." He warned tonelessly. He was frustrated but did not want to show it. After all he had done for her, after all they have gone through together, she would waver in her feelings? She would dare keep that _boy _in her heart while sharing his bed?

Ginny gave no indication that she had heard him, "Why me, Tom?" Her voice was soft, lifeless, devoid of the lilting quality or that sparkle he associated with her vibrant nature. There was a dull ache at where he supposed his heart would've been. Human emotions, now he was reminded of why he

"It was always you, precious." He had turned away from her crumpled and defeated form the moment he had entered her sitting room. He started straight ahead, though he did not see anything before him. He realized that if he did not make eye contact with her, he can pretend that she was not kneeling there, listening in on the most private confession that they both knew he was never going to make.

Ginny laughed, a low and humorless laugh. "I suppose that is right. Without little old me, you would've never gotten out of the diary, now would you?" She spoke softly, but there was enough venom, enough _bite _in that statement for Tom to suspect that she knew that was _not_ what he was referring to. She continued blithely, and if she took notice of the sudden tense air in the room, she made no notice. "What I was trying to ask was this: when did I become an end, instead of merely a means to an end?"

His smile was cruel as he finally turned and circled around her. She gazes up at him like a lost, little lamb, and he crouched down before Ginevra till his lips barely grazed her left ear. "The moment you told me that you simply loved me, my sweet." A small noise from his wife – a sound caught between a sob and a gasp – told him that she knew what he was referring to. He gently pushed her head onto his shoulders, and began to gently comb through her hair.

"You may hide behind your noble intentions, and speak of sacrifices and doing what you must – _for your family_. But do not hide behind those lies, sweetness. We both know that you are here, in my arms, in my _bed, _because there is where you ought to be. This, is where you belong, Ginevra." He continued, crooning to her in a soft, low voice.

Her sobs grew louder until she was shaking like a newborn babe in his arms, and each tear that fell on his shoulder serves as her penance for doubting him. His smile grew wider.

* * *

TBC...

**A/N:** You guys, please review and tell me if this didn't make sense (or heck, review and tell me if it DID make sense!) This is all un-betaed and so I have no idea if I'm leaving everyone scratching their heads, because I'm a bit flighty and tend to jump around, or think I've covered something, but didn't. Also, please review if you catch any mistakes, I've been staring at this for so long my eyeballs are drying up.

I'm also going to give myself a deadline of one month to get Chapter 8 up. I know it's still a fairly long wait, but I have to be realistic and take into account my workload and um, laziness. xP And I've said it before but I'll say it again, reviews are really what keeps me motivated, because wow, it's flattering to know someone else enjoys this besides me. Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 8: Trust

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. Shocking, I know!

* * *

Chapter 8 - Trust

_**As I walk upon high, and I step to the edge to see my world below…**_

_On top of what used to be the Astronomy Tower, Ginny felt like she could see forever._

_Sleep had eluded her once again, and insomnia has been a common companion in the year since the end of the Second War – the last war, where a reluctant hero had ended the terror for the last time when he cast an unforgivable curse at the Enemy. The flash of green signaled the end of Voldemort's life, and along with it, the end of his reign of terror over much of the wizarding world. The image of the prone, lifeless body of Voldemort, and a shaken but still very much alive and still standing Harry was burned neatly into Ginny's mind. Even now, she fought to suppress a shiver. It was done, it was finally the end. The horror was over. _

_Shaking her head slightly as if the movement will rid herself of the bad thoughts, she cast her gaze to the twinkling lights sprinkled across Hogsmeade village. It was early evening, and though it was too far away to see, Ginny could simply close her eyes and imagine all the hustle and bustle of the people in the village. Perhaps villagers were hurrying home from work, eager to get out of the chill of the settling night. Or maybe they were taking one last leisurely stroll to enjoy the fresh air, walking as if they have all the time in the world._

_And maybe they did have all the time in the world, thanks to Harry and the others winning the war. So many lives were shattered to pay for this peace, a peace paid for in blood. Too many of Ginny's friends, classmates, loved ones (she still could not think of Fred without crying, even now) had sacrificed themselves for this peace. She wonders – almost bitterly – who still remembers the sacrifices of the Order, though it had been only a year since the Light Side won back the Wizarding World. Everyone was all too ready to move on, but what was left of the heroes?_

"_Can't sleep?" A familiar voice inquired from behind her, interrupting her increasingly morbid thoughts. Ginny did not need to turn around to know the identity of the speaker. Only one person knew of her destinations when sleep escaped her, which it commonly did._

"_No, gave up trying to sleep about an hour ago. What about you Harry?" She answered lightly – or, what she hoped to be a light tone, her eyes still glued to the twinkling lights below her. _

"_I couldn't sleep either. Not after knowing that ultimately, after everything, you would betray me." Harry answered quietly, almost hissing the last part. Ginny whipped around at that unexpected accusation, and the pure hatred and disgust on Harry's face made her stumble back a step. She opens her mouth to try to defend herself, but Harry cuts her off. "You SAY you did this for your family," Harry continued as he advanced towards her menacingly. "But you know, in your heart of hearts that you did this for yourself." He intoned softly, his normally kind eyes burned with hatred. A hatred of her. _

"_No…no, that's not what happened…" Ginny tried to protest, stumbling back away from Harry when he marched forward aggressively towards her. He was lying, wasn't he? He couldn't possibly think that she was this selfish. Tom had threatened to kill her family if she didn't go with him, threatened to kill everyone she cared about. And she did not dare to call the Dark Lord's bluff, did she? That was the truth, wasn't it?! Her mind ranted angrily, indignantly. The excuses sounded feeble and hollow, even to her own mind. _

_But under Harry's accusing glance, Ginny found that she could not speak, could do nothing but stare in shock, with her mouth hanging open. She felt as if someone has cast __Immoblius __on her, and she still motionless, watching helplessly as Harry's face contorted in rage and anger. Then just as suddenly, the rage disappeared, and his face became void of all expressions. She found couldn't look away, because now with his features no longer contorted in rage or disgust, Ginny felt a tug in her heart as she watched on, mesmerized by his brilliant green eyes and his all too familiar face._

_They were facing each other, standing so close together that the tips of their shoes were almost touching. The tension between the two former lovers was tangible, and Ginny felt it leave a thick, bitter taste in her throat. She swallows, and attempts to smile at Harry. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes she sees parts of the cinder falls out of the already crumbling walls in the Astronomy Tower. The falling debris throws up a cloud of dust as they crashed into the floor. With a frozen smile still painted on her face, Ginny watched in silent horror as more debris and cinders came crashing down all around them, it was as if the battle torn walls were finally too tired to stand on their own. She stumbles backwards and narrowly misses having an errant piece of rubble fall on her head. The dust and soot is everywhere now, filling her nostrils and making her eyes itch as Ginny struggles blindly to retreat backwards, stopping only when her lower back hit the protruding ledge of the windowsill. She rubs her eyes, trying in vain to stop the tears, and looks up just in time to see Harry – brave, courageous Harry – raise up one arm towards her. Instead of reaching out to her, he pushes her lightly on the shoulder and Ginny loses her balance, her arms reaching out in vain to find something to hold onto. "HARRY!" She screamed in horror as she fell out the open window, limbs flailing helplessly around her. Her scream however, was ignored. And all the way own, she could only see his cold, emerald eyes._

* * *

Ginny jolted awake, sitting upright as she gasped for breaths of air that couldn't come quickly enough. She was shaking, and her body felt tense with adrenaline, as if she really had been falling through midair. The nightmares, they were nothing new in and of themselves. They came quite frequently enough after the war, but it didn't mean that she hated them any less. And yet, tonight, the dream was different. Harry was the one to have pushed her when before, the culprit was always Tom.

Tom.

Now fully awake, Ginny felt the weight of a pair of eyes trained steadily on her form. Her heartbeat accelerated again, and she looked up, knowing who those cold eyes belonged to.

Tom stood motionlessly at the foot of their bed. She could tell he was just getting ready to retire for the night, as his normal daytime black robes (black, always black, with him) were replaced by a pair of dark gray silk pajamas. Few have seen the Dark Lord outside of his self-imposed uniform; almost none has seen him in such a relaxed environment. It was far too close to actually letting his guard down.

And yet, his eyes, his eyes were not relaxed at all right now. His normally cold, blue eyes were ablaze with a fire Ginny had never seen before. Without conscious thought, she tensed, as if sensing the danger in this situation, without really knowing _why_.

With a cat-like, inhuman speed, Tom sprinted from his previous spot at the foot of the bed, and pounced on Ginny. Pushing her forcefully onto the bed with his agile speed and sheer momentum, Tom calmly wrapped one hand lightly around her neck, while his other hand strays to play with a curl of Ginny's hair, trailing soft fingertips down her jaw line, down the side of her neck before traveling down her torso. He rested his left hand lightly on her ribcage. Tom's relaxed, genteel admiration of her features belies the menacing hold he has around her pale neck with his right hand; not hard enough to bruise, but just enough pressure to remind her it was there. It is a game that Tom enjoys greatly; whispering sweet nothings and giving butterfly touches, all the while reminding her that her life is – literally – in his hands. Ginny shivers, though she is not certain from which action.

"Ginevra, Ginevra, Ginevra..." Tom hissed softly, leaning so close that his lips brushed against her outer ear. She shivers again, delighting in the way he speaks her name. Oh how Ginny hated her given name before she met him. As a bumbling and awkward child, Ginevra sounded too lady-like and sophisticated, forever out of her reach as she climbed trees and dug for garden gnomes with her brothers. Her mother had assured her she would grow into the name, even as she helped her only daughter bandage up a new cut from Quidditch, or wash overalls stained with grass and mud. But little Ginny, with her bony limbs and wayward hair – _stayed_ as Ginny, and Ginevra remained but a dream, forever ephemeral and unattainable, always beyond her grasp.

Until Tom, that is. Her given name from his lips sounded like a fervent prayer, filled with reverence and dark secrets. Velvety smooth and sinful, the male appreciation in his voice made Ginny preen and glow. It made her _aware,_ and she craves that sensation. His voice always commanded her full attention, and now, coupled with his light almost touches on her ribcage, she was hyper aware of his attention. More_, _her mind screamed, she always wanted more of Tom.

"Ginevra..." He intoned softly again. "I gave you a choice, did I not?" His left hand had abandoned its position on her ribcage, choosing instead to trail up and down her torso instead. She was wearing a sensible cotton nightgown, but his demanding touches still burned a feverish path down her side, as if he was touching her bare skin. "And you chose me. You chose a life above the common filth, didn't you?" The pressure against Ginny's neck deepened ever so slightly, and she was reminded that he was waiting – patiently, expectantly - for her answer. "Yes." She whispered softly, her eyes imploring him to understand what she was trying to say, which was funny, since she herself wasn't sure what she was trying to convey herself.

"And, do you regret that decision, my dear wife?" Calculating blue eyes meet shocked brown ones, and not for the first time, Ginny wished she could read Tom. She realized – not without a fair amount of bitterness that she could never reach him, not even now, when their bodies are almost entwined together. Ginny wanted to kiss his pale cheeks, run her fingers through his jet-black hair and meld the two of them together. She wanted kisses and touches and _all_ of him. Because Tom was - is - the only one who could set both her heart and body on fire. But even now, when she was at her most vulnerable and most open, he was merely staking a claim. She was less of a wife and more of a possession. Her eyes filled with unbidden tears at that thought, and through sheer force of will she stopped them from falling freely down her cheeks. Ginny would not give him the satisfaction of her tears. She would not cry for someone who would not return her love, but was cruel enough to bind them together for the rest of their lives anyway. She was stuck forever with unrequited love for the rest of her life. Did she regret her decision indeed?

Silence hung in the air, tense and suffocating. Tom narrowed his eyes at the bright brown eyes staring back up at him, and tightens his hold around her neck just ever so slightly, as a warning, or perhaps a reminder to the unanswered question still lingering in the air. Ginny stared up defiantly, and never breaking eye contact with the man on top of her, she answered calmly, "No, I don't." A pause and the answer set in. Tom's eyes hardened but she did not look away, did not break eye contact. He doubted her sincerity, but Ginny did not panic. Instead, she forced herself to relax, letting down the mental defenses in her mind, essentially allowing Tom to find whatever it was that he sought. For the first time in many, many years, Ginny had nothing to hide.

In one smooth movement, Tom released his hold on Ginny's neck and moved off the bed. Ginny remained where she laid, and followed him with her eyes as he stomped purposely across their bedroom and grabbed his bathrobe. Standing in front of the bedroom door, Tom stopped and looked over his shoulder, as Ginny met his gaze curiously. His expression remained blank and unreadable, but at least his eyes were back to their regular frosty blue. Ginny hoped that it was a good thing. Without a word, Tom turned around and exited the bedroom, his clipped, quick footsteps disappearing down the long hallway. Ginny sighed to herself; she was left all alone, again. It was late though, and there was nothing else she could do but go back to sleep. She hoped she wouldn't have any more dreams tonight.

* * *

**_Next Morning_**

He did not come back to bed, Ginny realized sadly as she awoke the following morning. His side of the bed remained neat and untouched, and a sinking feeling settled in Ginny's stomach as she lightly touched his pillow. She missed him, despite the pain and the anger, she missed him.

Ginny scowled to herself, and mentally berated herself for being so despondent literally minutes after she had woken up. She did not much feel like getting up today, however, as she saw no delight in taking breakfast alone. Perhaps she'll indulge herself and have breakfast in bed. Warming up to the idea of a lazy morning, she called for her house-elf, and a soft "pop" signaled Libby's arrival. Ginny asked for her breakfast to be brought up instead. "Yes, mistress! Right away!" The house-elf squeaked, eager to please the Lady. Ginny smiled kindly and inclined her head in thanks before turning away towards the window, letting Libby know that she was dismissed.

Falling back into bed, Ginny dozed lightly before the unmistakable footsteps outside the bedroom woke her and alerted her to Tom's presence. She looked up in time as he knocked once on the mahogany door before stepping in. Though it was barely half past dawn, Tom was already dressed in his crisp, black robes, looking alert and a little bit impatient. He walked gracefully to the side of the bed and smiled down at her, though the smile never reached his eyes. Rarely any of his smiles did.

"Good morning, Ginevra. I trust that you slept well and had no more…nightmares." His choice of words was not lost on Ginny, but she made no note of it. She loathed admitting it, but having him here made her happy, even if he was merely here to taunt her. "Good morning my Lord. I slept well, thank you. I hope you weren't up all night working?" She inquired politely, as it was expected of her. Their interactions were dictated by formalities and meaningless gestures, and Ginny likened it to actors in a play who were merely reciting the script. Yet, even as she learned her lines and quickly stepped into her given role, she grew better at the game, picking up nuances, and subtle glances that let her understand what the speaker was really trying to say.

"Unfortunately, my lady, I was. Much has been going on, and my followers need me to go over many plans and strategies regarding our _campaign_." Tom answered simply, placing extra stress on the last word. Ginny could have snorted in disbelief, had she not feared his displeasure at such a crude act, not to mention such blatant disrespect. "_Plans and strategies_" and "_campaign_" were all euphemisms for Death Eaters' waging havoc and chaos and innocent witches and wizards, and plots to kill members of the Order. Yes, "strategies", indeed, Ginny thought bitterly to herself. Strategies on how best to terrorize the Wizarding World.

"Ginevra. It is interesting that you have brought this up. I have come here with the intention to ask for your…assistance in my campaign." Tom continued, knowing full well that he has Ginny's undivided attention now. He rarely mentioned to her of his "campaign" or any of his agendas, and never had he directly asked for her help, and Ginny found herself nodding to him expectantly.

"Precious, you should know, what with the latest articles all over the Daily Prophet, that the enemy Potter is dangerous, a menace to all those around him." Tom explained urgently, grabbing Ginny's hand before he continued. "I know you were close to him, but I must ask you to see reason, Ginevra. He is dangerous, and needs to be stopped. I am asking you to help me stop him, because only _you_ can help me."

Ginny barely felt the tight grip of Tom on her hand, and his fervent pleads sounded far away and distant. Her mind was reeling from what he had asked. He wanted her help to….betray Harry? She felt numb, and she wondered idly if this was another nightmare, sent to torment her for all that she had done.

"Ginevra." At the sound of his voice, her head turned towards him and she met his eyes. "I know I am asking much of you, but you have to choose eventually, him or me." Tom's eyes were intense, and Ginny was taken back by the sheer emotions in them. She could only blink as his request sinks in, even though a small part of her knew that this day would come. She just didn't think it would be this soon. She had only been here – with Tom – for slightly over a week, after all.

She would choose, and despite everything, she knew she would always choose Tom.

Ginny's eyes focused once more and hardened in resolve as she looked at the Dark Lord, at her _husband_. "And what of my family? What will happen to them once I give you the information?" She asked. She no longer wished to play the part of the scared little girl, waking up with her hands covered in blood, and always afraid. Always afraid and unsure of what is to come. She is now the wife of the Dark Lord, and she will speak to him as an equal. Ginny will finally have a hand in her own destiny.

Her particular choice of words (using "when I give you the information", and not "if") was not lost on Tom and he was ready for her, "I will send a trusted follower to bring them to a safe house. They will not be on the list of attacks and will not be harmed." He promised solemnly, still holding tightly onto her hand.

Ginny looked down at their clasped hands. She contemplated his promise, as the silence stretched on as she weighted on his words. Finally, after a tense several minutes, she nodded her head in agreement. The real smile that blossomed on Tom's face was unexpected, and she was slightly taken aback. Does he doubt me even now? She thought incredulously to herself. That Tom still did not fully trust her left a bitter taste in her mouth, and Ginny quickly pushed the errant thoughts aside. He will see, she vowed silently, he will see once and for all whose side I am on.

"You have no idea what this means to me, Ginevra. I promise you will see the fruits of your labor soon." Tom whispered softly to her, and caressed her face with his free hand, smiling again as she leaned into his touch. "After breakfast, I'll bring over some parchments and a quill for you to write down anything and everything of importance about our enemy, yes?" Ginny only nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "Good, good. Also, I'll have the house elf bring a tonic for you along with your breakfast. Make sure to drink all of it."

Ginny tilted her head slightly in question. "A tonic? What for?" She inquired, as Tom kissed her cheek and turned towards the door. "Just a supplement, I guess you can call it." Tom answered blithely, his back turned towards her to hide the gleam in his eyes and his twisted smile.

As if on cue, Libby returned to the room with a breakfast tray laden with food and Tom's tonic, and the house elf placed the heavy tray gingerly across Ginny's lap, before bowing lowly to her master and mistress. "Enjoy your meal, my lady. I shall return in a bit." Tom intoned kindly before exiting the room. Once in the hallway, the warm and open expression dropped from his face, and it was quickly replaced by a cold, cruel smile. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the small victory he had won from Ginevra. Perhaps playing the part of the loving husband had its charms after all, he sneered to himself.

In five or six long strides Tom has arrived in his study just down the hall, where Lucius and MacNair were already patiently waiting for instruction. Ignoring the two kneeling figures, the Dark Lord walked slowly to his leather armchair and made himself comfortable before addressing his followers. His servants needed daily reminders that things needed to be done on his terms, and no one else's. "Rise," he commanded in a bored tone. The elder Malfoy and MacNair rose and awaited instructions. "Lucius, I want you to prepare a safe house ready for use this afternoon. I don't care where it is, but make sure it only has one exit, and place guards at the door at all times, understand?" "Yes my lord, right away." Lucius bowed and left without another word. "MacNair, I am in need of your…public relations skills. You are to visit the Weasleys, and inform them of the heightened status of their darling daughter. Tell them that if they agree to step out of the war they will be moved to the safe house and will be under my personal protection."

"Of course, my lord. But…if they refuse, what then, Master?" MacNair questioned hesitantly. He knew of the Weasley clan, and did not think highly of their intelligence, or their self-preservations. It would not be far fetched for the idiots to refuse such a generous offer from the Dark Lord.

"Then kill them." Tom replied plainly. "They are bargaining chips, nothing more. Bargaining chips in a game I intend to win. Now leave." The Dark Lord looked away from McNair, which meant that he was done talking. Bowing one last time, the dark-haired servant lumbered slowly out of the study, and wondered about the strangeness of the new task. Why bother getting a safe house ready if they were dispensable, as the Dark Lord had suggested? He wondered vaguely if it had anything to do with the red-haired girl he had seen around the Manor. No matter, he was a good Death Eater, and always eager to fulfill his orders. And right now, he thought with a gleeful smile that was all sharp teeth, he has some blood traitors to visit.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew, took me _slightly _longer than a month, but still better than five months, right? It's really the reviews that keeps me going, especially the ones that let me what ya'll think of the Tom and Ginny, and if they're being too OOC or not. The more time I spend thinking about Tom, the squishier he is to me, for some reason. (Squishy, like a teddy bear or a pet.) THANKS again to all those who took the time to review and let me know what they think! I really appreciate it! Please review again and let me know how this one turned out (and/or if you catch any mistakes.) I know the pacing is slow, but I really wanted to spend more time with Tom and Ginny and develop their relationship more. Two more chapters should wrap this story up, so we're almost nearing the end with this one. (Unless there's a sequel...but who knows?) Thanks in advanced!


	10. Chapter 9: Betrayal

**Disclaimer **- Harry Potter is not mine. A girl can dream, though.

This is also AU, and started before Book 7 so it is NOT DH-compliant.

* * *

Chapter 9 – Betrayal

**The Burrow**

Molly Weasley sat in the darkened kitchen of the Burrow, savoring a cup of Earl Grey, and wondered not for the first time why sleep eluded her. If the Burrow were a body, then the kitchen would serve as the heart. Usually the center of activities, filled with freshly cooked meals and all the warmth and love of a happy family home. But now the kitchen is empty and shrouded in darkness. The ginger-headed woman had slipped away from the warm cocoon of her bed, opting to hide her insomnia from her doting husband. He had enough to worry about, as it is.

The stillness of the house was interrupted by a soft _creak _and Molly immediately turned towards the front door to see who was there. It was irrational behavior (because really, who would be returning home at 2am?), but it was ingrained upon her from when the Burrow acted as an unofficial headquarters during the second war. Back then, fighting against You-Know-Who was the top priority, and Molly watched helplessly as her brood (both her biological and adopted children) were sent out on one dangerous mission after another. She spent most of her days pacing or cooking up a storm, and found that only housework fatigued her enough to swallow all of the hurt, worry, and anger she had felt. An angry part of her had wanted to wail and rant at the Order for sending children to fight the war, but instead, she fed and fussed over her brood diligently. She kissed them goodbye and prayed for their safety, and waited with bated breath at every knock or step upon the front door. She waited for the safe return of everyone during the war. And somehow, a year later, she found that she was waiting still.

Taking a sip of the now tepid tea, Molly looked from the door to the kitchen window expectantly, but saw no one walking up the path to the house. It had been almost two weeks since what would have been Ginny and Harry's wedding, and she had seen neither hair nor hide of her daughter and (almost) son-in-law. She had hounded Ron about any news or updates about the dark-haired boy. She still remembered the cold horror that had gripped her heart when she read that Harry was wanted for murder in the Prophet. The rest of her family, however, had shrugged it off. George had even cheekily pointed out that out of everyone unfortunate enough to know that annoying Skeeter, who DIDN'T want to kill that insufferable woman. Molly had been scandalized by his callous remark, but it was met with guffaws all around, and even a high five from Fred. "Now now, George, joking at a time like this?" Arthur had admonished half-heartedly, even though his lips were curling up in an amused smile.

No one seemed to think that Harry Potter was capable of causing harm, it seems. Molly wondered if no one else saw the darkness in him. The shadows in his eyes that never seem to go away, no matter how much love and affection was poured onto him. There are moments she wondered if anyone knew the real Harry Potter at all.

In the quiet night, alone with only her thoughts, the protective mother knew that's why she had let Ginny go without a fuss. Had she so readily forgave her only daughter for leaving Harry at the altar, because Molly had seen the darkness and the hurt in his eyes?

She snorted dubiously at that fanciful thought. Experience had taught the proud mother that when her stubborn Ginny had set her mind on something, the whole world had better watch out. Molly supposed that sort of dogged determination came from her side of the family, as Arthur was more peaceful and easygoing. He may be staunch in his beliefs, but he hated confrontations.

Still, it just wasn't like Ginny to not floo or owl anyone, stubborn or not. If it hadn't been for the note in Ginny' room, Molly would've thought…she cut that morbid thought abruptly. Even now, a year after the defeat of You-Know-Who, Molly still couldn't bear to finish that thought, not even in her head. Yes, Harry had stomped out the most evil dark wizard of their times, but Molly wondered if someone as evil and scheming could ever be _truly _gone. All she need to do was look into Harry's haunted gaze, or visit the war orphans that had come under the protection of the Ministry, if they doubted You-Know-Who's handiworks. So many lives gone, so many families torn apart, how can any of it just be over by his death? No matter what, You-Know-Who's taint lingers, far after his death.

Nevertheless, Molly hopes that Ginny had managed to find peace whatever she had run off too. Though, a postcard or a floo would be nice, she thought indignantly. She also can't shake the nagging feeling that Ginny would not just run away from her problems. Molly sighs and rests her head on her hand. She sits and waits for another wayward child to return home.

A muffled noise and the sound of shuffling before the front door creaks open. Despite the lateness of the hour, Molly unconsciously, expectantly, turns toward the door. Hopefulness fell away to horror when she saw not her little girl, but the metallic, hideous masks of the Death Eaters. The crescent moon gave an eerie glow to the silver masks, and Molly froze in terror. She didn't have her wand! She was only going to get some tea and maybe some cake and she didn't have her wand! Her family were upstairs and Merlin why were they _here? _Why can't she _move_?!

Stomps and sleepy grumbles came from the back stairways, and Molly watched with detached dread as the rest of the Weasley clan came down to investigate the commotion. Clad in pajamas and rubbing their eyes blearily, Molly's gaze fell upon her husband and sons. She tried not to think of her grandchildren upstairs, sleeping peacefully.

Startled words were exchanged, and wands were drawn, and Molly could only watch helplessly. She felt frozen with fright as she saw the flashes of a sickly green light as spells flew overhead. The Burrow seemed to groan and protest under the weight of the fight. Molly watched as pots and pans from her kitchen came flying towards her head. Then, she fell into blessed oblivion, and saw no more.

* * *

**Elsewhere that night**

It was 9:30 at night in the Aurors' headquarters, and all of the offices and departments were empty, save for three people in the research department.

The trio were poring over recent newspaper clippings and going through all of the records and files in the past year. They have been here for hours, but from the determined look on the bespectacled man's face, they showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.

Ron Weasley rolled his shoulders and tried to massage out the kink in the back of his neck. He cast a questioning glance to his two best mates, and found them both deeply engrossed in their own respective files. The red-haired man sighed, loudly, and the sudden noise broke the concentration of the other occupants in the room. Both Harry and Hermione looked a bit startled, but quickly recovered. "Yes, Ron?" Hermione asked patiently, even though she barely resisted rolling her eyes. She was amused by how much this felt like being back in Hogwarts when they were studying for their O.W.Ls. (Or, more accurately, Harry and she would study, while Ron would sit around and complain.)

Another long-suffering sigh from the ginger-haired man, and Ron found himself under the polite scrutiny of his two friends. "I'm not complaining or nothing," though his voice held a slightly whiny tone, "but er, Harry, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for, again?"

Harry tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose as he searched deep within him to find a shred of patience for Ron. He was tired, worried sick about Ginny and feeling extremely uncharitable at the moment. But, he told himself firmly, this doesn't mean he has to take it out on Ron.

"We are looking for any sort of suspicious activities in the past three or four months. Disappearances, kidnappings, unsolved crimes, those sorts of things." He explained, with the greatest of patience he could muster up. "The Death Eaters are up to something." Harry muttered darkly to himself, missing the worried look his two friends exchanged over his head.

"Harry…" Hermione started, hesitating as I she didn't know how to continue. "Harry…" she started again but was cut off by an impatient wave. "Look Hermione, I know what you're going to say, and frankly, you don't have to believe me. I just need you two to trust me." Harry stated, looking from Hermione to Ron. The petite brunette sucked in a sharp breath, and thought about the weight of Harry's words. Yes, he was the hero of the Wizarding World, but the last couple of weeks has been extremely had been extremely rough on the young man. Hermione was still mulling over the request when Ron spoke up. "Did you just meet us, mate. Of course we trust you. We trusted you with our lives. Then and now." Ron's easy grin lit up the room, and the tension faded. Hermione smiled warmly, despite her fatigue and worry, and placed her hand over Harry's in a gesture of support. "Of course we trust you. Now, enough talk, let's get back to work!' She exclaimed.

It was a large task to tackle. Aurors made a point to keep meticulous notes about anything and everything that may be suspicious. They did not take the safety of the Wizarding World lightly, after all. Going back the last four months, there must have been several hundreds of Auror reports and files. But when Harry smiled, truly and genuinely smiled for the first time since Ginny left, Hermione knew it was worth it.

They have worked deep into the night and now it is early morning, a glance at the magical clock tells Hermione that it is almost four o'clock in the morning. Hey had been poring over the files for so long that the words blurred together. Hermione shook her head and decided that she had earned a well-deserved break. "Aha!" came the triumphant exclamation from Ron, interrupted her train of thoughts. "What did you find, Ron?' Harry glanced up excitedly, leaning forward to read the file that was open in front of Ron. "I'm not sure what it is exactly, but all the cases in this file are marked 'open' or inconclusive.'" The red head replied distractedly. Skimming through a parchment, his eyes widened as he digested the information. "It said here Mad-Eye Moody was attacked two weeks ago outside of his house. The report did not list any injuries, but now the old man's even more paranoid. If that's even possible." The past bit was muttered softly, almost as if Ron was talking to himself.

The words were lost on Hermione, barely registering the last part as her mind was still reeling from the fact that Moody, of all people, had been attacked. It wasn't the attack itself that shook her so badly, but because it was near his house. Mad-Eye Moody has the dubious honor of being the most paranoid man Hermione has ever met, and no one – save perhaps a few elite in the Order- knew the location of his home. "But how did the Death Eaters know his location? How did they know where and when to attack him?" It was Ron who had voiced the questions that both Harry and Hermione were pondering. "I have a few ideas, but none of them bodes well." Harry answered grimly. The three of them had been friends long enough to know what Harry left unsaid: someone from inside the Order was working for the Death Eaters.

"What other reports are in that file?" Hermione spoke up. Something about all of this was just not adding up, and she needed more information.

"Well, er, let's see here…" Ron rummaged through the assorted parchment before his hand stilled. "McGonagall..?" He uttered in shock.

At the name of her favorite Hogwarts professor, Hermione's head snapped up, her full attention now on the stunned red-haired man. "What about Professor McGonagall?" The young woman demanded a bit sharply. Ron did not notice her tone, his eyes still scanning the parchment in his hands. "She was also attacked, and injured on the way to an Order meeting." He reported dutifully, before continuing. "It says here that she claimed it was a kidnapping attempt…Sustained some minor injuries and was released from St Mungos shortly after the attack. There were no witnesses reported, and this case is also marked as "Open", just like Moody's." Ron gave a long, shuddering sigh as everyone absorbed this new information.

Hermione glanced nervously over to Harry, who was sitting on her left, wearing a thoughtful expression. Something _was _definitely up, she thought grimly to herself. The brunette felt her heart sped up in fear as she entertained Harry's insistent claims. Voldemort was back. If so, then things were going to get worse, and very quickly.

"It's sabotage." Harry stated calmly. He spoke in a quiet even tone, despite the fact that his hands were clutched in fists at his sides. "Both Moody and McGonagall were attacked in a deserted area with no witnesses. The Death Eaters mean to pick us off, one by one." He continued.

"Why haven't we heard anything about this in the news?" Ron wondered aloud. "Don't we have a right to know?"

"The Ministry probably didn't want to scare the public, especially at the risk of potential backlash. Both Moody and McGonagall are highly respected members of the Order, if the public were to got wind that they were attacked, I'm sure everyone would go ballistic. That's my guess, anyhow." Hermione answered. Ron and Harry both nodded at her suggestion. It all sounded eerily similar to when Fudge had refused to admit to Voldemort's return, despite the mounting evidence.

"The most disturbing part," Hermione continued when neither of the boys spoke, "is the amount of personal details the Death Eaters needed to carry out the attacks. I mean, I can think of maybe three people who know of Moody's location, and that's with me being generous. And how did they know when the Order meeting was? McGonagall is never alone and they know they can't get into Hogwarts. She is only vulnerable when she is traveling to and from the Order meeting." The more she thought about it, the more Hermione could not quell the sense of uneasiness growing in the pit of her stomach.

A tense silence followed, before Ron spoke up uncertainly. "You…you don't suppose there's a spy in the Order, do you?" He frowned, as if the very thought was distasteful. But before neither Harry nor Hermione could respond, a large, grey owl tapped on the closed window, demanding entry. With a puzzled look, Harry walked towards the owl, unlatching the hook and allowing it entrance. The owl hooted once as it hopped the few short steps to be inside, and when Harry did not move, the regal owl hooted again impatiently. "Oh, oh it's for me." Harry startled to life and relieved the anxious owl of its message before it flew back into the open skies.

The muggle-born witch watched as Harry unfurls and read the short message with curious eyes. Whatever the letter contained, however, was probably not good news. Harry's face went from puzzlement to rage. He threw the scroll down onto the table, and with blazing eyes and not a word of explanation, stormed out of the room.

"Harry!" An equally alarmed Ron called out after the other young man. Moving out of her seat, Hermione picked up the discarded message. "What does it say? I haven't seen'im like that in ages!" The confused red-haired man muttered as he moved to Hermione's side to read the note.

_** Harry – Please I need your help. Voldemort has taken me to the old Riddle Manor and I don't know what he's planning to do. I need you please come get me! Hurry!**_

_** - Ginny**_

Hermione felt her blood run cold, and millions of horrible endings that could happen ran through her frantic mind. From the look of disbelief and horror on Ron's face, it seems as if he was thinking the same thing. "We'll talk about this note in a bit, but we need to get to Harry before he does anything else rash!" Hermione told Ron quite firmly. The young man simply nodded numbly, still too shell-shocked to speak. The two hurried out the door after Harry, and after an uncertain outcome.

* * *

**Malfoy Manor**

It was almost sunrise, probably only another hour or two, and Ginny sighed softly as she sat up from the bed. Tom did not come home last night, and she had not slept a wink. Ginny scared herself imagining all of the horrible things that he could be doing instead. Though she no longer could deny her love for him, it didn't make it any easier to trust him. Coupled with the horrible weight of guilt of leaving, it was little wonder that she had stayed awake all night.

The uncertainties and the guilt she was feeling threatened to overwhelm her. Ginny could not feel certain about _anything _in her life anymore. She thought that she could always trust Harry, but now here he was being accused of murder. And Tom, whom she had never hoped to see again, was now her husband, who cared about her, despite every logical explanation out there. More than that, he had forced Ginny to be honest with herself and her own feelings. She knew now, that even after all this time, and after all the horrors he had wrought, her heart could only belong to Tom.

Still, she realized now that if they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together, they would need to reach some sort of common ground. She will not be a trophy wife; her own self worth is too high for that. Ginny's hands worried the edge of the rich, velvet coverlet. If she was to be honest, the redhead could admit that she is uneasy in her new home. Surrounded by opulent gold and delicate crystals, she felt like she was living in a museum, always having to be careful of where she stepped or where she turned. It has been over three weeks, and she still cannot help but marvels at the fine china her and Tom dined on, or the hand carved furniture pieces, made only of the finest mahogany wood and most expensive silk. Every time she caught a glimpse of her own reflection, she was shocked at the image that greeted her. Two days after her arrival, Tom had ordered, ("personally picked." He would often boast) enough dresses and robes to fill 3 full dressers. Ginny had never seen so many beautiful dresses, made of the beautiful silk, satin and laces, and decorated with pearls and rubies. She had examined the dresses with wonder, not even daring to touch the fabric. Tom had watched her in amusement and with a pride smirk, grabbed a satin dress in navy blue off a hanger and held it up in front of her. "These are all personally made for you, Ginevra mine. Enjoy them as you please." He had whispered softly into her ear. Ginny still remembered how proud he had looked, knowing that he – and no one else - was the one to provide all of the luxury and material treasures for he. Ginny never had the heart to tell him that when he was not there, all the precious pearls and satin dressed made her feel like a child who was playing dress up. Without Tom there with her, she knew she didn't belong.

And how did it come to this? She wondered to herself. She had never cared much to be dressed up as a doll, and most of the presents did not please her as much as Tom had assumed. With a jolt, Ginny realized that hint of irritation when she thought of Tom's self-assured behavior. Expensive gifts and new dresses aren't going to make me happy. She was not a simple follower or lanky, greedy for any sign of favor.

Ginevra Riddle was meant to be Tom's equal.

Ginny let out a deep breath and for the first time sine she had arrived, things seemed to make _sense._ Ginny felt centered, as she slowly got dressed. She will have breakfast, and then find Tom afterwards. The newlyweds had quite a bit to talk about.

- - -

Thirty minutes later, and Tom was still nowhere to be found. "I'm sorry Missus, but Libby doesn't know where the Master had gone! He cames back this mornin' but left again!" The houself reported fearfully, eyes watering at the thought of failing her kind mistress, and she tugged on her oversized ears in distress.

"It's alright, Libby. I'm sure I will find him. It's not your fault." Ginny rushed to assure her poor distraught servant. Libby was her only friend in this horrid place, and it wasn't her fault that Tom had stormed off to some random place! Her calm exterior belied the growing irritation she felt. Her displeasure at her husband grew, pulsing as it was something alive. She paced about the hallway with her lips drawn in consternation. Now that Libby had excused herself and returned to her chores, Ginny did not feel the need to hide her growing anger against her husband.

Clarity came over her like a flood, and Ginny felt like she had just woken up from a deep sleep. Being with Tom had drugged her senses, and now that he was away, she felt as if she could think freely for the first time in ages. Now, though, she needed to find that damn elusive man! Ginny frowned at the daunting task in front of her.

"Child, why are you frowning? It'll lead to premature wrinkles if you keep it up, you know." A bright and feminine voice rang out lightly and broke Ginny's reverie. The redhead turned slowly towards the end of the dark hallway where the voice had originated. Down the drafty, dimly lit corridor Ginny went, her curiosity temporarily displacing her irritation at Tom. The voice had sounded warm and cheerful and strangely maternal. In other words, a voice that was completely out of place in Malfoy's unwelcoming manor. Ginny stopped at the end of the hall, and behind a marble statue of a hideous looking gargoyle, hung the painting in question. "Hello, dear." The voice called out again, a bit softer this time. Ginny crept closer, and saw that the portrait was of a beautiful woman in her mid-forties or so, with the striking blonde hair that were almost synonymous with the Malfoy name pulled up in an elegant bun. Her face though, held no distain or sneer, but was warm and open, and her sharp grey eyes held a bit of a twinkle as she carefully regarded Ginny. "Why were you frowning so dear?" She asked politely. Ginny was taken back at the kindness in that question. She didn't think that anyone in the Malfoy house could show her any semblance of kindness. The young witch studied the painting carefully, but found no traces of malice or ill intent from the kindly woman, which was a surprising, but not unwelcomed conclusion. She was alone so often in the house, and even when Tom was around, sometimes it wasn't enough. He cared about her, and treated her well, but his gazes were often cold, and as hard as flint. It seems as if it took everything in his power to be kind. Caring for her goes completely against his entire nature. So now, Ginny felt a small glimmer of hope that she would find a friend, someone she could talk to in this hostile place.

"Ah, well, you see, I'm looking for my husband, Tom. I don't know where he is." Ginny flinched at how small and weak her voice had sounded, but if anything, the portrait woman's gaze only soften further. "Tom, is it? He wouldn't be that handsome young man with dark hair and that impatient stance would he? He does stomp around so, my dear. Wakes me up all the time!" The portrait complained, but her eyes were merry so Ginny figured she was only teasing. Smiling wryly to herself, Ginny realized that the description of her husband was quite spot on. "Yes, I think that's him, alright. Do you know where he had gone off to?"

"Oh, what a handsome husband you have, no wonder you'll be running after him!" The portrait exclaimed cheerily as she chuckled, but quickly straightened up at Ginny's expectant face. "Ah yes, let's see, I believe this morning your Tom and Lucius mentioned something about going to Little …Hanger? Or was it Little Higgle, something like that."

Ginny felt her blood ran cold as a horrible feeling descended upon her. "You don't mean….Little Hangleton, do you?" She inquired uncertainly, hoping and praying that she really DIDN'T mean Little Hangleton. Only death and pain ever came from THAT place.

"Ah yes! Little Hangleton, that's the name, yes." The portrait answered as her face brightened with recognition.

"Oh, that's…" Ginny stammered, and quickly took a deep breath that did little to calm her shattered nerves. "That is, I've got to go, I must get to Tom." She exclaimed. Death and pain, death and pain, her brain chanted. Ginny felt as if everything was going to go terribly wrong.

She had stumbled forward and had made it about halfway down the hallway before she stopped abruptly and turned back towards the painting. She smiled weakly, before offering a quiet "thank you." The kind woman in the portrait merely smiled, deepening the laugh lines around her eyes. "Be safe, child." She called after Ginny.

Without another word, the young witch flew out the door towards Little Hangleton. She tried to ignore the ruby-hued skies, and the fact that it was the exact shade of blood.

* * *

Harry guessed it was probably about another hour until dawn when he apparated onto the deserted front lawn of the old Riddle Manor. Clumps of dead grass scattered the ground and weeds grew freely in the unchecked earth. There were also bits of broken bottles and cigarette butts strewn around. Only the vagabonds dared disturb the old house, and it had remained deserted since the old caretaker was murdered years ago.

Yet, Harry saw none of the trash or even the sorry remains of the once impressive house. Instead, he scanned the area for any traces of Ginny.

_CRACK_. A heavy blow struck the bespectacled man on the back of his head, and the sudden and immense pain made Harry fall to his knees. Arms grabbed at him roughly and Harry found himself standing up into the cold, sinister face of a masked Death Eater. A quick glance around the area told him that he was surrounded. He yelled in frustration and closed his eyes. This cannot be happening!

"Stupid little Harry Potter, always rushing in without knowing all of the information. A blind fool, you are." At the sound of the mocking voice, Harry lifted his eyes and met the eyes of Tom, who was staring at him with a jeering smirk. "Where's Ginny, you bastard?" Harry snarled, struggling in vain against the Death Eaters who were holding him down.

Before Tom could answer, a voice interrupted them. "I'm right here." Both men turned towards the source of the voce to find Ginny standing at the edge of the circle, clad in a black cloak.

"GINNY!" Harry cried in relief at the sight of her, as she walked towards them. The Death Eaters moved out of the way to let her pass, glancing nervously from the tiny redhead to the angry face of their Master.

"Yes, Harry. I'm right here." Her words may have been meant for Harry, but her eyes were fixed on Tom, who was also watching her approach with a calculated and angry look. Ginny stopped about three feet away from Harry and Tom, and from the inside of her cloak she drew a dagger, that gleamed dangerously in the soft morning light. "Let him go, Tom, or I end this right here." Ginny then calmly raise the dagger to rest, ominously, on her neck.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**A/N:** Here is the long awaited chapter 9! (Or what I like to think is the long awaited chapter, I do like to feel self important and all that.) Sorry it's a bit of a cliffhanger, but for what it's worth next chapter will be the LAST chapter. My muse seem to believe that there will be a sequel to this. I'm not sure what I think about that yet. Not alot of Tom/Ginny interaction, but I had to set the stage for the last chapter. Again, please review and let me know what you think! The more reviews the more motivation I have to update. Thanks again for your patience!

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	11. Chapter 10: Forever

**Disclaimer **- Harry Potter is not mine. A girl can dream, though.

This is also AU, and started before Book 7 so it is NOT DH-compliant. This chapter is written mostly in the present tense as an experiment, so please let me know if you catch any errors. (It's un-betaed, as usual.)

The final chapter! ::throws confetti::

* * *

Chapter 10

"_Yes, Harry. I'm right here." Her words may have been meant for Harry, but her eyes were fixed on Tom, who was also watching her approach with a calculated and angry look. Ginny stopped about three feet away from Harry and Tom, and from the inside of her cloak she drew a dagger, that gleamed dangerously in the soft morning light. "Let him go, Tom, or I end this right here." Ginny then calmly raise the dagger to rest, ominously, on her neck. _

It is time to end this, once and for all, Ginny thinks to herself. I will find freedom, however this may end. Her grip on the knife tightens. For now, she controls her own fate.

- - -

In the deepest corner of his mind, Tom knew it was incredibly clichéd. But when he saw Ginevra appear on the lawn of Little Hangleton and pulled the dagger to her neck, his heart clutched in his chest.

Inwardly, he snorts. This is what she had reduced me to, nothing but a pathetic cliché.

He looks to her calmly, though he is not completely successful in keeping the anger at her betrayal out of his eyes. Ginevra stands tall and proud, the mild wind twirling tendrils of her unbound hair like dozens of tiny charmed snakes. Her eyes shines with stubbornness and determination, and she is tense as she locks eyes with Tom. She says nothing further, but the message is clear. _It is either Harry's life, or mine._

As often as the case when the girl was involved, Tom's world shrinks until it contains only himself and Ginevra. He is vaguely aware that Harry Potter is there too, looking on helplessly, even if it is Potter's life that is at stake

But the true battle wages between the Dark Lord and his wife.

"What are you doing here, Ginevra?" Tom inquires softly. He wishes to be angry with her, but all he seems to feel is the sharp metallic taste of fear in his mouth. He despises it the foreign emotion, and it sits heavily on his tongue.

She ignores the question, but implores him just as quietly. "Let him go, Tom. Please." She is radiant in her defiance, and Tom takes a moment to admire her beauty in the soft glow of the rising sun. With her, forever is not long enough.

"I will give you everything you ask for. The stars, the moon on a silver platter if you desire. Soon, the Wizarding World will fall prostate at my feet, and everything will be at your disposal. You will have fortunes untold, and fame throughout the ages. So why must you ask for the one thing that I cannot grant you?" Tom hissed angrily. He has given so much, sacrificed so much but the blasted girl just keeps taking. Anger, frustration and hurt roared inside his chest and he fought to keep the hexes from slipping from his lips.

Her gaze does not waver, and unconsciously the hand gripping the dagger tightens a bit more. "I never wanted fame or fortune, Tom. I only want my friends to be safe. Please, let him go." Her voice is tired, and a hint of bitterness seeps in.

"We are at an impasse then. I will not let him live, but I will not let you die. You live and die on my words, Ginevra." Tom snarled. He marches forward towards the witch, driven more by anger than anything else. Logically, he knows, she _should_ be unharmed by a simple dagger. If that wretched house elf had done its job, Ginevra would have taken the tonic specially prepared, granting her immortality. The Dark Lord and His Lady, forever.

Yet at the sight of her threatening to end her life for the sake of Harry Potter made Tom forget all thoughts of logic. He wants to shake her and hurt her, to make her feel the pain that he is going through right now. To scream and yell at her until she finally sees who she is, and more importantly whom she belongs to. In the darkest recesses of his heart, he is afraid, that despite given her eternal life, it is still not enough. His eyes takes on a dangerous glint as he closes the scant distance between him and Ginevra. He watches as her brows furrow in confusion at his arrival, before her eyes narrow in determination. Tom reaches out a hand at the same exact moment that she dragged the dagger against her pale neck.

Ginevra crumples to the ground, but Tom is there to catch her, as he cradles her gently in his arms. Blood is gushing out of the neck wound, and she finds it harder and harder for her to breathe. She gasps, a sharp and shallow intake of air. The cut is deep, and the blood flows freely. It will not be long before she stops breathing completely

Vaguely, Tom registers a long, keening scream as he prepares to apparate them back to the Manor. It took a moment for him to realize that Harry Potter was still standing there. But he cannot deal with that now.

It seems, Tom thought grimly to himself, that Ginevra got what she wanted. For now, Potter's life is safe.

- - -

Suddenly, Harry found himself alone. He is not aware of anything except for the fact that Ginny had just slit her own throat. She had given up her own life to save his. And now she is gone, and he did not even get the chance to say goodbye.

He falls to his knees and screams again, letting out some of the pain and anguish he felt. Nothing matters anymore. Ginny is gone.

- - - -

By the time Ginny opens her eyes again, the sun has set and the crescent moon has taken her place in the dark, velvety sky. It was a clear night, with no stars out, but the moon perseveres and bathes the earth in a soft, ethereal glow.

She is aware of softness and of warmth, and the weight of the blanket that surrounds her like a cocoon makes her feel drowsy and comfortable. In the soft stages between sleep and wakefulness, she opens her eyes leisurely and looks around the room curiously.

She is back at the Manor, and back in her and Tom's bedroom.

Tom…her eyes widened as all the memories of what transpires earlier comes rushing back at her. Harry…Tom…the _dagger! _

Ginny struggles with the blanket as she tries to sit up, her hands then flew to her neck, half expecting to feel the angry sting of the open gnash on her neck. Her fingers first touched down softly, then impatiently as she tries to feel any evidence of what had happened. But to her amazement, there was nothing but the smooth, even skin of her neck, completely unmarred. She looks down and her hands and expects them to be covered in warm, thick blood, but finds nothing. It is as if she had never slit her throat at all.

"Your wound healed almost immediately, though you did lose consciousness because of the blood loss." A voice – Tom's voice – intrudes her musing, and Ginny tries in vain to stifle her surprise at his presence.

"What happened? Why…am I still alive?" She whispers softly, asking the questions that she felt she already knew the answers to.

"The tonic, Ginevra. Welcome to eternity." Was the only response she got. She can only hear his voice, and make out a shape seated on the loveseat by the door in the darkness. She wishes she could see his face right now. Ginny wracks her brain as she tries to process what he had just divulged. Eternity? The tonic…

…_Ginny tilted her head slightly in question. "A tonic? What for?" She inquired, as Tom kissed her cheek and turned towards the door. "Just a supplement, I guess you can call it." Tom answered blithely, his back turned towards her to hide the gleam in his eyes and his twisted smile. _

"Eternity? You mean I am…?" Her voice breaks when the realization of what he had done sinks in. A small part of her is not surprised. She knew, always knew, that Tom meant to live forever. Of all the things in the world, Death was his one true enemy. But to actually find a way to live forever… And why her, as well…?

"I have gifted you with immortality, yes." Tom is quick to complete her unfinished thought. He is still hiding in the shadows, and Ginny wishes that he was nearer.

"Gifted, Tom? Gifted?" Ginny snorts, half in frustration and half in disbelief. "I think you meant cursed." She mumbles angrily. How COULD he? Such a decision, and she had no say in it?

A silence, thick and heavy as the night outside fell onto the room. Ginny holds her breath, and somehow knows instinctively, she had crossed the line. "Is that what you think, my wife? Are you repulsed to have to spend eternity with me?"

Her heart aches at the sincerity and the rare vulnerability at the question. She was angry; yes, but angry that he had made the decision for her. Not angry that he wanted to spend eternity with her, nor at the prospect of being together forever. And suddenly Ginny realizes how so very tired she is, so tired of all the fighting and misunderstandings, and the bed calls gently to her. She lies back down into the inviting warmth and her eyelids droops, suddenly weighted down by the earlier conversation. Before she falls back into a peaceful slumber, she murmurs quietly, "No, not repulsed. Never that. Despite it all, I'll love you forever." And she said no more for the remainder of the night as she drifts back into slumber.

He watches quietly, almost reverently as the young witch slips into a deep, peaceful sleep. As her breath evens out, he moves silently to her side, and places a soft kiss on her forehead. He knew that their struggle is not over. "Happily ever afters" only happened in the fairy tales, and he was no Prince Charming, though Ginevra was every inch the Princess. But for now, this truce, this rare moment of peace - will be enough. It has to be enough. "Sleep, I will watch over you always." He whispers into the darkness. He lies down besides Ginevra, and closes his eyes.

Up in the heavens, the moon shines softly on the young couple and bears witness to the tender scene. But the moon keeps its secrets. And the night goes on, marching steadily towards the next dawn.

**The End**

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A/N: And this story is finally done! My apologies for taking so long to finish this. Quite simply, I have lost my interest in this story, and just couldn't bring myself to write. I have decided that I am much better equipped at reading and enjoying stories than actually writing them. It's a bit funny, because I didn't kill off Harry since I was planning on doing a sequel to tidy up some of the other things. But now, that's highly debatable. I might do a rewrite of this story first, but who knows?

In any case, thanks again to everyone who took the time to review. I don't think I can ever express how much that kindness means to me. If you could please review and let me know what you think of this final chapter, I would be forever grateful. Thank you again to everyone who came along with me for this (really long) ride!


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